


It’s in the Air

by Emmilyne



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Dark Humor, Dubious Consent, F#$k or Die, F/M, Happy Ending, Holiday, Humor, Infidelity, Mutual Non-Con, Season/Series 05, Sex Pollen, Truth Serum, a little meta, by a third party because sex pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 104,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21552481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmilyne/pseuds/Emmilyne
Summary: December 23, 2016.  It’s Mayor Queen’s first holiday party and love is in the air.No, wait, that’s tension in the air.  Bitterness.  Regret.  Painful longing for one’s former love.  Awkward interactions with current significant others.  A little humiliation mixed in.  Yup, this was one great party.Then the gas came.Maybe love was in the air afterall.**Just my usual lock Oliver and Felicity in a room with a mind-altering substance with a dash of holiday magic thrown in.  And, by magic, I mean Sex Pollen.  And maybe a little Truth Serum to stir things up.**COMPLETE
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 1319
Kudos: 931





	1. Just Another Holiday in Star City

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: 
> 
> This story was conceived three Decembers ago after episode 5x09, “What We Leave Behind,” born both of the desire to fix it and the fact that I’ve always wanted to write a Sex Pollen fic.
> 
> It was shelved (literally) because I was in the middle of too many other writing projects. Then, last year at this time, those stories were in serious danger of not being finished at all. A general disgust of 6B/7A of Arrow and finding a lot less pleasure in posting than I once did had my Muse on strike. It was very close to leaving Olicity behind for good.
> 
> So I decided to try my very first NaNoWriMo and go with a short (ha!), light (double ha!), funny, tropey, sexy story (hopefully I succeeded with the last three). The plan was to leave all the post break up angst to be dealt with off page and have a PWP. Cause Sex Pollen. And also wasn’t I all tapped out over the break up?
> 
> Well, it revived my Muse. Oh boy, did it ever. But…
> 
> I decided a fun twist would be to add a Truth Serum component to my Sex Pollen. To speed up the reunion. Sixteen chapters later…it had spiraled into a deep, dark, emotional/psychological journey of angst. With generous sides of humor and sex.
> 
> This story comes with the following **warnings** :
> 
>   1. Firstly, if you do not like my other post-break-up fics you will **_NOT_** like this. This portrays two flawed human-beings with a lot of emotional baggage. Their thoughts are not always pretty. So, please, if that’s not your thing hit the back button now.
>   2. This is **_not_** a fic full of my headcannons. In fact, lots of the things going on in Felicity and Oliver’s heads were things that I never thought of until I was scribbling it down for this story. These characters had minds of their own.
>   3. Due to the timing of this fic it contains infidelity. It is not prolonged in any way.
>   4. Oliver and Felicity are not the only people dosed with Sex Pollen. So there is lots of Doubtuous Consent. A kind of mutual drug-induced non-con masterminded by a third party…if that makes sense. There is no violence (except toward a door) and certainly no sexual violence. The darkness/angst all comes from Oliver and Felicity’s head. 
> 

> 
> So if you survived the warnings and are still here, enjoy!
> 
> Ps. If you need a little reminder of where we are in cannon, here’s a taste: <https://youtu.be/qsMo58tx0fg>

_December 23, 2016_

That third glass of champagne was a bad idea. The fourth…

It should have been obvious at that point that no amount of alcohol was going to calm her nerves and the more Felicity drank, the worse her verbal diarrhea got. Yet, even though her filter had gone into full-on shut-down mode, she kept chugging champagne like water.

So, _so_ stupid.

Felicity thought her social intelligence had improved, but clearly no. If it had, she would have feigned the stomach flu. _Before_ she stepped foot in City Hall tonight.

Introducing her new boyfriend to her friends at her ex-fiancé’s holiday party hadn’t been her brightest idea to begin with. But when Felicity had gotten that goddamn “See your photos from this day last year” alert and realized it was a year to the _day_ since their engagement…

Felicity knew she had avoidance and denial down to a fine art, but not realizing what today was until a few hours before she had to get ready for her date with another man was a whole new level in this emotional head-in-the-sand game she’d been playing. 

Or maybe it was a game of Emotional Chicken. 

God, how Felicity wished she’d called ‘uncle’ then. Twelve hours ago. Before the champagne and Susan Williams and Felicity’s pathetic attempt at girlfriending. 

There was no shame in the ‘flu.’ It wasn’t like Felicity hadn’t felt like vomiting.

She still did.

Which was another reason Felicity should put down the champagne. 

Any moment now.

Felicity almost found herself thinking fondly of last year’s holiday party. A bit of dark magic. A kidnapping. A tiny incident with a gas chamber. All in a day’s work. 

Tonight’s humiliation was a horse of a different color. And not a good color. 

Maybe if she could stay focused on last year’s less than pleasant memories it would be okay. Strengthen her walls even.

Wow. Who woulda thunk that Felicity would be standing here wishing she could focus on getting shot. On lying in the hospital, terrified and in pain. That, at least, would be a good excuse for acting like a friggen basket case. 

Instead, it was a very different sort of memory haunting her, twisting her bubble-filled innards into progressively tighter knots. 

December 23, 2015.

A night Felicity wanted with every fiber of her being to forget. And the pain of that bullet entering her side was the least of it.

Because before it was the worst night of Felicity’s life, it had been the best. And that was the most dangerous thought of all.

Now every time Felicity saw a Christmas tree, she saw Oliver’s blue eyes shining up at her as he proposed. The sincerity and the joy and the near worshipful look in his eyes. A look every woman—every _human-being_ wanted to see directed at them. A look Felicity had never dreamed she’d see.

And now…now it was Susan fraking William’s hand curved around Oliver’s overly perfect biceps.

But Felicity had Billy. Sweet, kind, morally straight-and-narrow, good-guy Billy. Who treated her the way a woman should be treated. Who didn’t lie to her. Who Felicity was terrified was falling in love with her.

Billy deserved so much better than a woman who kept thinking his arm felt wrong around her waist. That it wasn’t strong enough. Graceful enough. Who kept imagining another hand drifting over her back, callouses catching on Felicity’s dress. 

And _what_ had she been thinking wearing _forest green_ tonight of all nights? 

Actually, Felicity knew exactly what she’d been thinking. That she wanted something as opposite to that damn red dress as she could get. 

The red one with the zippers.

The one about which Oliver had whispered in her ear, in _great detail_ , his plan to remove. With his teeth.

Just one more promise Oliver hadn’t followed through on.

No. That wasn’t fair. It was life that hadn’t followed through on the promise of that night.

Of the damn red dress. 

Felicity hadn’t been able to bring herself to wear it for Billy. 

She hadn’t been able to make herself throw it away either.

It was a metaphor for her life. Felicity couldn’t commit to anything anymore. Not a startup. Not her new boyfriend. Not her old fiancé. 

Not letting her old fiancé go.

Felicity didn’t think she would ever truly let him go. Oliver would always be in her life. Well, as long as he allowed it. 

Or lived.

Annnd _that_ was where her thoughts took a maudlin turn. 

A _more_ maudlin turn. One way too painful for Felicity to deal with right then so…best take another deep swallow of champagne and _not think_ about it.

Though the champagne didn’t seem to be helping block out _anything_. Wasn’t it supposed to numb or something? Slow these rambling thoughts? Help avoid the deep, dark ruminations? The increasing clarity that Felicity’s plan to move on while Oliver was still very much in her life was deeply flawed?

So very, _very_ flawed.

And no amount of clinging to and petting Billy was going to compensate for the fact that her attention kept drifting across the room. To the mayor. Mayor Handsome and his gorgeous reporter. So like gorgeous Laurel. And every other woman he attracted like a moth to the flame.

What had Felicity expected? For _Oliver Queen_ to stay single? To pine for her indefinitely? He was as allergic to celibacy as he was to the truth. And his broody good looks were catnip to aggressive and powerful brunettes.

Felicity found that jealousy was not a good look on her. She didn’t like it one bit. But that didn’t seen to help either. Maybe she could blame _that_ on the champagne. If it wasn’t going to help her feel better than it could at least take the blame for her less desirable thoughts and actions.

Which was very immature and Felicity should stop. 

But it would be such a shame to not finish the glass. It was really _good_ champagne.

Plus, it was Felicity’s only defense against reliving the horrible moment when she’d stepped forward to congratulate Oliver. At the same moment Ms I’ve-Never-Had-A-Selfconcious-Moment-In-My-Whole-Fraking-Life did the same. 

Thank God Felicity hadn’t gone with red. The two of them stepping forward at the same moment, wearing the same color, looking like suitors vying for the prince’s hand…yeah, _no_. Just the idea made bile rise in her throat.

It was already in the top three most humiliating moments of Felicity’s life and that was a category with some _serious_ competition.

A double date? Seriously? Could the ground open up and swallow her now?

Maybe Felicity could still claim the flu, call all of it a fever delirium.

Was there ever a _worse_ idea than having dinner with _both_ Billy and Oliver? The two of them should never be in the same _room_. Never. It made Felicity vibrate with…with something really, _really_ bad, turned her into a babbling baboon. 

Add Isabel 2.0 to the mix…even _without_ the crippling jealousy (which _why_? Felicity broke up with Oliver. She had a great boyfriend. _When_ was she going to get over this?), there was something seriously untrustworthy about Susan Whatshername the _Gorgeous_ Reporter. 

And Felicity swore the comparison had nothing to do with the fact that if Susan did turn out to be Isabel 2.0, Felicity could hit her with a van.

Okay, it was time to go. With or without the flu story. Felicity was hiding in the corner. Avoiding her boyfriend. Imagining killing her ex’s current girlfriend. There was no salvaging this night. 

It was time to cut her losses. Put on her fluffy socks and old pjs, maybe watch a Dr. Who holiday special or two and cry alone on her couch. Yup, that was the mood Felicity was in. 

Crying alone on the couch sounded good compared to this.

Now what to tell Billy—?

That thought was derailed by a hand on her elbow. One that sent shivers up Felicity’s spine and did _not_ belong to her boyfriend. In her whole damn life there was only one hand that made her feel like this. 

Which lead to the conclusion that Felicity was cursed. That was the only explanation.

Then, to add insult to injury, Oliver leaned in and whispered directly in Felicity’s ear, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Then, in typical Oliver fashion, he didn’t bother waiting for an answer. He just guided Felicity (aka pulled) into an even quieter corner, behind a tastefully decorated tree that blocked the caterer’s entrance.

“What’s wrong?” Felicity whispered back, a sudden hope rearing its contradictory head. “Is it a _green_ emergency?” She could really use a Team Arrow emergency right now. “Is it Prometheus?” 

Please, let it be Prometheus.

Okay, Felicity had officially lost her mind.

What the hell was _wrong_ with her? _Hoping_ it was Prometheus? On Christmas Eve _Eve_? 

First, Felicity wished that annoying reporter was evil and now this? Maybe the champagne wasn’t just champagne? Because it seemed to be making her irrationally… _mean_.

A waiter passed on the way to the kitchen and Felicity all but threw her (almost) empty glass onto his tray.

Then, because she hadn’t been humiliated enough, Oliver had to reach out and save the glass from tumbling off said tray and crashing to the floor. Then Mr. Suave gave the frazzled waiter an encouraging nod, making Felicity look like even more of a spaz.

Life wasn’t fair. If it was, then Oliver would be the one fumbling and fuming with jealousy, he’d be acting like the ass. Felicity would be the put-together ex, gracious and kind as she moved on with her life. Just once she wanted to be the cool-as-a-cucumber one. Elegant and graceful.

Just _once_.

But no, Mr. Dignified Mayor smiled benignly until the waiter disappeared through the swinging door and turned back to messy bumbling little old her and whispered, “No, nothing like that.”

Dammit.

“Oh.”

Messy, bumbling, and just a little bit selfish. Because Felicity was _disappointed_ that something horrible hadn’t happened, something that would necessitate calling this (awful) night quits and heading to the Bunker. 

The Bunker was even better than warm fuzzy socks. 

Or maybe it was just Felicity’s emotional equivalent.

Felicity knew her place in the Bunker. She was useful. Successful. There _she_ was the one Oliver turned to after he made an inspirational speech.

A crinkle formed between Oliver’s eyes and he leaned even closer, his low voice heavy with concern. “Are you okay? You seem… _off_ tonight?”

Seriously? _Now_ Oliver had to go be insightful? Couldn’t he be a dick? Just a little bit? Felicity knew he had it in him.

The problem was Felicity couldn’t recall a single dickish moment. 

It was nights like tonight that Felicity had a really hard time remembering the 101 reasons why they weren’t together. Why Oliver would make a terrible life partner.

Felicity needed to write them down. Put it in her phone in one of those special folders so she could sneak off and remind herself why she had chosen to _not_ be with him. Add a few pictures and videos. Something to counteract the engagement pictures that had flashed on her screen earlier today and were now stuck in a repeating slideshow in her mind. 

She needed a weapon. Some sort of defense. For when all Felicity could remember was how incredible they’d been together.

But all Felicity could hope for now was that Oliver’s insightfulness didn’t extend so far as to be able to read that on her face.

Shaking off the unwanted thoughts (or trying to), Felicity did her best to look nonchalant as she said, “Why would you say that?”

And if Oliver bought that…

“ _Felicity_ , I know you well enough to recognize when you’re off.” Of _course,_ he did. “You haven’t babbled like this since…I honestly can’t remember the last time.”

Well, at least someone recognized Felicity wasn’t like this _all_ the time. 

But did it _have_ to be her gorgeous ex? 

“Oh, you know…” Felicity waved her hand, wearing the bright smile that was her mask tonight. Her armor. “New boyfriend meeting friends for the first time and all that.”

Oliver gave her a small smile. _That_ smile. How a smile could look so sad Felicity had no idea, but it deepened the pit in her already hollow stomach. 

Why did his pain still feel like _her_ pain? Felicity had enough of her own without adding Oliver’s.

“Felicity, I just hope you know…”

Oh, _please,_ don’t let him go on and on about how _okay_ he was with her dating. Felicity couldn’t stand it. Not tonight.

It wasn’t like she wanted Oliver to start throwing things or punch Billy or anything. But did he have to take every opportunity to tell her how happy he was for her? 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and Felicity muttered, “Oh thank God,” before she could stop herself. 

Like she’d said. Filter gone. Damn it.

Frowning, Oliver turned away, to give Felicity privacy or…he looked hurt. Of course, he did. What did she expect? This night just kept getting better. 

Frak it all. Despite everything, Felicity didn’t want Oliver to be in pain. Not because of her. Not at all. In fact, she could barely cope with it. She just didn’t want to hurt any more either.

Yet, try as she did, Felicity couldn’t seem to accomplish either goal. Why was life so damn _hard_?

Felicity’s fingers were far from dexterous as she pulled out her phone, but at least it gave her some place to look that wasn’t the kicked puppy in front of her. The beautiful kicked puppy, who used to be hers.

Then she read Curtis’ text and…

 _This_ was what Felicity got for hoping for a ‘green’ emergency. When would she learn not to tempt fate?

“Oliver…” Felicity’s voice took on an urgent edge as she grabbed his arm. On instinct. He didn’t jerk away. He never had. 

In fact, Oliver stepped into Felicity’s bubble and read over her shoulder.

 **Curtis:** _All the doors are locked. We can’t leave the party. What the frak is going on?_

“Felicity—”

“Alert the rest of the team? On it.” Felicity’s fingers were already moving with their normal (thank God) speed, reaching out to John and the others. 

Any buzz from the champagne cleared in that instant. What did it say about her that it took something awful happening to make her feel calm and in control? And Felicity would bet her last Palmer tech dollar that something truly awful was happening.

As if on cue, a white cloud rolled into the room.

What was it with Christmas and poison gas?

“We need to…”

Felicity had no idea how Oliver ended that sentence. It was drowned out by screaming. And coughing.

Then all she could see was white and her lungs were filling. For a moment Felicity was back in that HIVE gas chamber. All she heard was white noise and her heartbeat roaring in her ears. Was this how she was going to die? Of all the times they had cheated death, was this _finally_ it?

Felicity reached out for Oliver, her hand finding his arm and curling over it, with the insane thought that at least he was with her this time. At least they’d die together. 

Because being the one left behind was so much worse.

Panic made Felicity’s breathing fast, which only served to fill her lungs faster. She wanted to cough or hold her breath but…

It didn’t _feel_ like poison. 

This gas didn’t burn. Not like it had in HIVE’s Chamber. The gas filling Felicity’s lungs was sweet and soothing, like steam from the sauna. It had the most lovely aroma…

Oliver’s hand closed over Felicity’s and time stood still. 

There were worse ways to die.

Then her arm jerked as Oliver literally yanked Felicity out of the fog she was in. For a brief moment she had a flash of him lifting her out of the gas chamber and her fear bled away. 

Oliver was there. He wouldn’t let her die. Not while he still had a breath left in him.

The swinging doors hit Felicity in the ass as Oliver pulled her into the kitchen, where they could at least see through the cloud. “Cover your mouth!”

“With _what_?”

Had Oliver _seen_ what she was wearing? Also, it took every ounce of coordination Felicity had to keep up as he weaved through the kitchen and freaked out caterers. Who were just standing there. Staring.

“Get out of here!” Oliver screamed. 

Because what the hell? Didn’t anyone in this city know how to behave in a crisis? They’d had enough of them. Felicity would have thought they’d all be experts by now.

“Call 911. Go! Go!” 

Oliver didn’t slow down enough to see if they complied. He reached the door and Felicity assumed it was locked, but he kicked it down so quickly and so efficiently Felicity didn’t have a chance to catch her breath. 

Oliver never let go of her hand. 

It was a miracle Felicity’s heels (and her ankles) survived the sprint down the empty hallway. Before she even had a chance to process, Oliver pulled her into a stairwell, the door slamming closed behind them.

Turning, Oliver grabbed Felicity’s shoulders and all she could do was...

 _Look_ at him. 

God, he was gorgeous.

Oliver was panting, more so than he probably should be. Felicity might be gasping for air from their mad dash but normally it wouldn’t be enough to make him break a sweat. 

But Oliver _was_ sweating. A fine film of perspiration dotted his forehead, glistening just above those intense blue, blue eyes, thick lashes—

“You okay?” Oliver asked in a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. 

Felicity started nodding before she really considered the question. She was a little distracted by his lips. The new, longer scruff Oliver was sporting hid them more than she would normally prefer…which was a blessing, of course. It wasn’t like she wanted to be focused on his lips.

Except now, Felicity couldn’t seem to tare her eyes away. Couldn’t remember why she would want to. They were wet and full. Oliver had the poutiest, most perfect lips and she wanted—

“Do you feel sick?” Oliver demanded, his hands with those damn calluses Felicity’d been day-dreaming about skated over the bare skin of her shoulders and down her arms. He leaned closer, his eyes dilated and his voice frantic. “How much did you breathe in?”

How much what?

Oh. 

The gas.

 _Right_.

Felicity shook herself. Literally closed her eyes and _shook_ her head. She swallowed and tried to get her brain to focus on the question at hand. 

Oddly enough, Felicity hadn’t had a single thought as to how the gas made her feel. Not since that first breath. The one that hadn’t burned.

It had soothed instead. Wasn’t that odd?

“I…I don’t know?” 

And, yeah, that was more of a question than an answer but…it was hard to focus on anything other than the feel of Oliver’s hands rubbing her arms, the intensity of his gaze, the sweet smell of his breath and the musk…

Felicity _was_ breathing hard. That could be an affect of the gas. Her heart was pounding. And now that she thought about it she was sweating too and she was sure it wasn’t nearly as sexy as when Oliver did.

All of that could be symptoms of the gas. 

_Or_ of being alone with Oliver. Of having him touch her, as innocent as the touch was.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Oliver’s voice was more insistent, his hands clenching and unclenching on her arms.

And Felicity, wakado that she was, laughed. “How would we get to a hospital? Curtis said we’re trapped. I mean, if you thought we could get out of the building wouldn’t you have—”

“If you need a hospital, I will _get you_ to a hospital,” Oliver growled and damn if Felicity didn’t believe him.

It made her feel all melty inside. Warm and cared for in a way Felicity hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

It also made her throb, deep in her core and…

That was so inappropriate Felicity didn’t even know what to say. She took a deep breath and tried to make her brain work. 

“Don’t need a hospital,” Felicity was finally able to force out. At least she didn’t think she did. Though her tongue felt …uncoordinated or something. Maybe the gas was to intoxicate them, disorient them. And there were a lot of people still breathing it in. “Need a tablet. Need to figure out what’s going on. All those people in there—”

“Thank God!” Oliver yanked Felicity into his arms with a relieved grunt and, _dammit_ , her brain went blank again.

He was hugging her. 

_Oliver_ was hugging her.

It had been a long time since Oliver had hugged her like this. With his whole body. His arms surrounding her. Completely. His chin nestled into her hair. His hands splayed across her back. And…

Oliver wasn’t stopping. The hugging. Or wasn’t ending the hug. Felicity couldn’t quite capture the proper phraseology but, either way, the hug continued for a very long time all things considered. 

Not that Oliver was totally to blame. Felicity’s hands were fisted in his shirt. The back of his shirt. Because her arms had somehow found their way under Oliver’s jacket, under his damn suspenders (why were they _so_ hot?) and were clutching his slightly damp dress shirt.

It was a very nice shirt. Soft. Felicity could tell because it was rubbing against her cheek. Or maybe her cheek was rubbing against the shirt. Nuzzling even. It probably shouldn’t be doing that. 

But why _shouldn’t_ she be nuzzling? 

Felicity couldn’t remember. Oliver’s chest was so warm under the fabric. It was thin enough that she could feel the familiar outlines of muscles and scars and…

It was really unfair how good his sweat smelled. Life would be easier if Oliver smelled gross like a normal person.

“Do you feel weak? Sick? Dizzy?” Olivers voice was rough in Felicity’s ear and it felt like a caress. Though that could have been his nose running along the shell of her ear.

Maybe she did feel dizzy. Felicity was pretty sure that wasn’t from the gas though.

So Felicity shook her head. Her chin grazed a suspender and she had the insane urge to _bite_ it. 

Instead Felicity murmured, “You got us out pretty fast.” She was proud of how coherent she sounded. “My hero,” she sighed, inhaling more of his delicious smell and snuggling in.

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ …” Oliver groaned. 

It was a groan Felicity knew well. Her entire body knew it very, _very_ well. 

Arousal washed over her, her nipples tightening and the throbbing between her legs doubling. Wow, it felt good.

“Nope, certainly don’t feel sick,” Felicity heard herself say, her tongue running away with itself. Though, there were worse things her tongue could be doing right now. Or better. “Maybe a _little_ drugged.” 

Because something in the back of Felicity’s brain (the far, _far_ back of her brain) told her there was something off here.

Oliver jerked back so fast, the world spun and she had to throw out her arm, bracing herself against his chest to keep from falling in a heap. 

Felicity blinked, breathing in through her nose, and when her vision cleared, Oliver’s face was right there, his eyes wide and concerned, raking over her face.

“You feel drugged?” Oliver demanded and…

That was what she said, wasn’t it? Oliver must be feeling drugged too, whether he admitted it or not. He was usually quicker on the up-take.

“Drugged. Drunk. I drank a lot of champagne.” Oh yeah, it could be that. Was it that?

Also, Oliver’s touch had the tendency to make Felicity feel this way. Had she said that already?

Except the only places they were touching now were Oliver’s hands gripping her shoulders and Felicity’s resting on his chest. 

Even with his nearness and the champagne factored in…her brain was abnormally cloudy. 

Then Felicity met Oliver’s eyes and the wash of sheer _need_ left her feeling weak in the knees and she swallowed a moan.

Okay, something was _definitely_ off here.

“Do _you_ feel drugged?” Felicity asked, surprised at the soft, warm sound of her voice. Was he feeling _this_ too?

Oliver’s response was to kinda _sway_ toward her. Though it really didn’t seen voluntary. Also, it _could_ have been the world swaying, but for a moment Felicity really thought he was going to kiss her.

Which she wanted. 

Felicity wanted it so damn badly she thought she might cry…even though she really didn’t think she should. Kiss him. Or even want to. 

It would really help if Felicity could remember why though.

Oliver was the one who jerked back, biting out an angry, “Fuck!” 

Maybe _he_ remembered.

He must, because he tore himself away from Felicity almost violently. Then Oliver scrubbed his hands over his face, muttering, “It’s not poison. It’s…”

He looked around with wild eyes. Felicity fought the urge to go to him. It felt almost painful to not be touching but…that was wrong. _Why_? She turned her eyes away from him. Maybe Oliver would be less distracting if—

There was a white cloud creeping in around the door jam.

“Oliver!”

Felicity didn’t see his reaction, just heard the, “ _Jesus Christ_!”

Then Oliver grabbed Felicity’s hand again, yanking her up the stairs. 

“Where are we going?” Felicity panted, trying not to trip.

Shouldn’t they be trying to get out? As in outside? Curtis said they were locked in but Oliver was a lot better at getting through doors than Curtis.

Though, glancing down at the fog filling the stairwell, it looked like the bottom floor was completely compromised. 

And gas rose so…

Was it even possible to out run it? 

Oliver sure as hell seemed to think so. Felicity was having a hard time keeping up with him, even taking the stairs two at a time. Didn’t he realize that pulling her up the stairs at this pace was _not_ going to end well? 

He never answered her question. He didn’t slow down and his grip on her hand only got tighter.

Felicity lowered her eyes to make sure her heels didn’t catch on the stairs and saw the white cloud licking her feet. She doubled her own efforts. If he tripped, Oliver would stop to carry her and the gas would definitely win their little race.

Oliver dragged Felicity up six flights of stairs. 

By some miracle they finally out paced the cloud, which was good because Felicity was gasping for air and this time she was pretty sure it _was_ from exertion. Oliver’s pace didn’t slow until they reached his office…oh. Duh. Of course, that was where he was headed.

Brain definitely slowed.

Whipping the door open, Oliver swung Felicity into the room. It wasn’t graceful. Whatever they had (were?) inhaling was affecting his coordination too. 

Felicity found herself spinning, unable to stop the momentum. If Oliver’s motor control was off, hers was down right dreadful. 

Then the _actual_ spinning turned into vertigo and Felicity stumbled back until she hit Oliver’s desk. Closing her eyes, she grasped the mahogany tightly and took deep breaths, willing the world to stop moving.

“Towels. In the bathroom. Grab them,” Oliver yelled, clearly oblivious to the fact that Felicity was barely able to keep upright.

She heard drawers slam and forced her eyes open. Oliver had thankfully stopped revolving. He’d turned on the light. Not the bright florescent over head lights. Just two floor lamps, which was good, less jarring.

It gave Felicity enough dim light to see that Oliver had found duct tape and was frantically working to seal his door shut. Smart. And towels would help block under the door.

Okay, Felicity needed to move. 

She stumbled away from the desk, still feeling dizzy and off-kilter. Then she realized she had no idea where the bathroom was. Wasn’t it in the hallway? As in on the _other_ side of the door Oliver was duct taping shut? 

Felicity scanned the room…Oliver’s office was spacious but, nope, no bathroom. 

She did find a blanket draped over the arm of the couch and snatched it up. Actually there was more than a few blankets tucked next to the sofa. Oliver must sleep here when he wasn’t sleeping at the Bunker. No wonder he didn’t feel the need to get his own place.

Felicity stumbled back to the door and fell to her knees, shoving the blanket under the door best she could. She didn’t see any of the cloud sneaking through, so maybe they had gotten here in time. 

Oliver appeared beside her, finishing the door and starting to tape the blanket in place. “No towels?”

Shooting him a look, Felicity grabbed the tape from his hands and finished the job herself, with an irritated, “No bathroom.” 

When Felicity was done, she looked up to see Oliver staring at her like she was crazy. Yup, his brain was not functioning at top capacity. 

“The bathrooms are…” Felicity pointed to the door.

Oliver’s shoulders relaxed and his face dissolved into a smile. “I have a private one back there,” he jerked his thumb to wherever this mysterious hidden bathroom seemed to be.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” Felicity fired back. She had the distinct impression Oliver was laughing at her.

But then his smile wavered and she wanted it back. Then Felicity met his eyes and she knew Oliver was realizing the same thing she was. 

Felicity didn’t know Oliver had a private bathroom because she was almost never here.

Because they no longer had the sort of relationship where they knew every little thing about the other’s life.

Felicity wasn’t his assistant. Or his girlfriend. Or his fiancé. Hell, they were barely friends any more. They were just crime fighting partners who just happened to own a piece of each other’s soul.

Not only were they not together, they were with other people.

Which made everything that had happened and _almost_ happened in the stairwell…just _really_ wrong.

And yet…Felicity’s body didn’t seem to care. Not one single solitary cell.

While Felicity’s brain was accomplishing the very painful task of rebooting, Oliver’s smile had faded into what could only be described as a _brood_. Frak. She hated the brood.

Even if Felicity felt the very real desire to brood herself.

Oliver cleared his throat and stood, brushing his hands on his trousers before offering her his hand. Felicity took it. Mostly because she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to make it to her feet on her own. 

At least that’s what she told herself. 

It was a very nice hand. And holding it always made Felicity feel safe.

But as soon as she was upright, Oliver dropped her hand and turned from her. The purposeful way he stalked over to his desk looked a lot more in-control than he had a minute ago. He scooped up his laptop and handed it to Felicity without even a glance her way. 

Maybe they were in the clear now that they were out of the gas. It was logical to assume they had to be actively breathing it to feel the affects.

So now that Oliver was thinking rationally, apparently he didn’t want to be any where near her.

Which was actually a pretty _ir_ rational thought. Since when had Oliver ever not wanted to be around her? As friends and partners at the very least? 

And…Felicity took stock of her body. She really didn’t feel all that different than she had in the stairwell. Yes, her thoughts were a little clearer. She could remember what day it was and who her date was…mostly. 

Felicity could remember that she _had_ a date. A date that wasn’t Oliver. He had a beard? Maybe? 

That wasn’t normal. She should remember what her date looked like and what his name was. So…apparently, Felicity’s head was still a little fuzzy. Also, her skin was warm and tingly and her body was _really_ hyperaware of Oliver. His smell and the way he—

“We need eyes on the Ballroom. Thea—”

Fuck.

“Right.” 

There were other people to think about. A _lot_ of other people. 

When Oliver’s words managed to permeate the haze, guilt set in, spurring Felicity into action. She perched the laptop on the edge of the desk and her fingers took over. Thank God _they_ still knew how to function.

How could Felicity have forgotten all those people still in the Ballroom. The Ballroom that was filled with some sort of psychoactive, potentially poisonous, gas. 

_Hundreds_ of people. Thea. Curtis. Quintin…no, he’d left early thank goodness. Billy. 

Oh dear God. Billy. _That_ was his name. Felicity was the worst—

Oliver’s password was still the address of the bungalow they’d shared in Bali.

Frak, that just…

Felicity didn’t even know what to think about that. Or the fact that she’d typed it in without thinking and was now maneuvering through the City Hall system, looking for the right security cameras. Best to focus on the later. Someone had taken them off-line but that didn’t mean she couldn’t reverse it.

“Do you think this is Prometheus?” Felicity asked.

It wasn’t that she thought it was. It was a shot in the dark. Thrown out there in an attempt to distract herself from the fact that she could _feel_ Oliver’s body behind her. They weren’t even touching and yet Felicity was so damn aware of him she was having trouble functioning.

“Thea’s not answering,” Oliver grunted and Felicity glanced up to see him pacing, one hand holding the phone to his ear, the other alternating between loosening his tie and running his fingers through his hair. “This doesn’t seem like Prometheus’ MO,” he muttered distractedly as he redialed.

“That depends, did the Hood gas a room full of people?” Felicity asked and Oliver flashed her a hard look. She was _trying_ to keep her eyes on the code that flash by, with only moderate success. Luckily, it was amateurish work. At least the tech side of it. The biochemical, on the other hand… “What? It’s a valid question. Prometheus is recreating the Hood’s greatest hits so—”

“No, I never _gassed_ anyone,” Oliver snapped. But then he shot her an apologetic look and moderated his tone, “Curtis isn’t picking up either.” He stabbed at his poor phone almost violently before raising it to his ear again and pacing away from her. “Come on. Come on. Pick up. Some body _fucking_ pick up!”

Oliver was so hot when he was worried.

 _Damn_ it! 

What the hell was wrong with her?

Felicity shook her head to clear it (bad idea, cause vertigo) and dragged her eyes back to the monitor. Getting them to leave Oliver was not an easy task—

Oh.

Oh _no_.

Holy hell. This wasn’t happening. This was a bizarre dream because…nope, couldn’t be happening.

But it did explain what was wrong with _her_.

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver snapped and she jerked, her eyes lurching to his. She was pretty sure they were wide as saucers. “What’s going on? Are they okay?”

Fear laced his voice and Felicity wanted to make it go away. She wanted to reassure him. She really really did. 

What Felicity said was, “Define ‘okay’.”

Oliver was there in an instant, leaning over her shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his body and though he wasn’t _actually_ touching her he was still so _damn_ close. And his smell…he smelled so fraking good. He was wearing Felicity’s favorite cologne and the way it mixed with his very particular musk—

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ!”

And that was when Oliver realized ‘okay’ was probably a stretch.

Felicity’s eyes opened. She hadn’t realized she’d closed them. Though, as soon as they refocused on the screen, she kinda wished they’d stayed closed.

“I think Jesus might be the only one _not_ fucking,” Felicity whimpered and Oliver made a shocked, choking sound and she rushed to add, “Sorry. Was that disrespectful or sacrilegious or—?”

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver groaned, rubbing his eyes and letting his head fall back with an incredulous little laugh. “Just tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing. _Tell me_ I’m hallucinating. _Please_.”

“Umm…” Felicity really, really wished she could. “If what you’re seeing is your entire staff, the police department, and anyone else important enough to be invited to City Hall’s annual holiday party engaging in a ginormous orgy that would make Julius Caesar cry with envy then,” she gave a humorless chuckle, “the only hope I can give you is that I’m having the same hallucination.”

Oliver growled. Honest to God he did. The rumbling sound reverberated across her over-heated body. 

Felicity turned her head to look at him. 

It was a mistake.

His neck was arched and his jaw clenched. Felicity could see his pulse pounding in his neck. She wanted to lick it.

“Fuck,” Oliver muttered and…

Yes, please.

Felicity tore her gaze away. They were in _so_ much trouble. 

Swallowing, Felicity tried to find someplace to look that wasn’t Oliver _or_ the computer. “At least we know what we were dosed with.”

“We do?” Oliver scoffed, his hands landing on his desk. Which coincidentally brought him that much closer to Felicity and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning out loud. “Please, enlighten me.”

Felicity didn’t take offense. Oliver’s tone wasn’t dismissive. It was… _desperate_.

Oh God.

Swallowing again…damn, her throat was dry. Felicity squeaked, “Isn’t it obvious? It’s Sex Pollen.”


	2. Sex Pollen a Trope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually don’t love it when fics go meta and reference fandom things. It often feels forced and out of character, so it may be strange that this is possibly my favorite chapter. The banter just flowed beautifully and, really, Sex Pollen is such a ridiculous concept it was ripe to make fun of itself. This might be self-indulgent but I love it and I hope you do too.
> 
> Please head the warnings in the tags.

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 2: Sex Pollen, a Trope**

“Sex Pollen? What the hell is _Sex Pollen_?” Oliver growled, but all things considered Felicity really couldn’t blame him for his irritable tone.

Then again Oliver’s smell...his closeness…his _everything_ was making it really hard for Felicity to be annoyed at anything he did. 

It was also making it really hard to think. Which was Felicity’s only excuse…

Well, and Sex Pollen. 

Sex Pollen was Felicity’s other excuse for it taking so long to take in Oliver’s confused expression and say, “Right. You’ve never read Fan Fiction.” Which meant he’d never heard of Sex Pollen. 

Oliver gave an impatient head shake and Felicity fought the impulse to roll her eyes. At some point five years ‘away’ was no longer an excuse. The man was a millennial for goodness sake. At some point in his first twenty two years one would have thought he’d ventured onto the Internet. 

“Do you even know what Fan Fiction is?” It didn’t come out snootily and of that Felicity was proud.

“What…?” Oliver let out a frustrated grunt and ran his hand over his face. “Felicity, I need you to focus.” He took her shoulders and turned her to face him, “ _Please_.” 

Felicity thought she was focusing just fine until Oliver went and _touched_ her.

She swore she felt a bolt of pure sensation originating from where his hands touched her bare shoulders and shooting out in about a million directions. Oliver must have felt it to because he sucked in his breath and lifted his hands from her skin. As if they had been electrocuted. 

He didn’t step away though. In fact, Oliver’s hands hovered just above her skin. His eyes wide, dilated. His breathing short.

Felicity licked her lips and watched Oliver’s eyes follow the motion.

They were in _so_ much trouble.

It occurred to Felicity that she could step back too. Might even be a good idea. She’d go as far as to say it was _probably_ a good idea.

She didn’t.

It was an insanely long minute before Oliver rasped, his voice thick and rough, “Tell me what Sex Pollen is and how that can help us.”

It was a simple and reasonable request. The problem was Oliver was using a voice he only ever used in the bedroom. 

Or during bedroom _activities_ that happened somewhere else. Which, given Oliver, could be anywhere.

But Felicity really needed to answer him. To attempt a thought that wasn’t related to how goddamn attractive he was.

Okay. Here goes.

“Sex pollen is…it’s a trope,” Felicity finally answered, proud she’d found words and fairly intelligent ones at that. Though, were they the right words? “A fictional trope. Something people in all sorts of fandoms use when they write erotica about fictional characters and post it on-line.”

Oliver’s brow furrowed and Felicity waited. He was probably going to snap at her. As accurate as her explanation was it probably wasn’t what Oliver was looking for. Which was fair because it didn’t really help them with their currently drugged state.

But Oliver surprised her when he asked, incredulous, “People do that?”

No, not incredulous. 

Curious. Slightly shocked. With a touch of wonder.

It was _such_ an attractive look on him.

God, Felicity was fucked.

Hopefully.

“Yes, Oliver. It’s a pretty common part of pop culture nowadays,” Felicity explained trying not to sound condescending. Or charmed. She found Oliver’s naïveté about such things far too charming. Also discussing erotica with him was turning her on. But then again, _breathing_ was turning her on. “And Sex Pollen is—”

“And _you_ read this?” Apparently, Oliver was stuck on the erotica part too. And, this time, he sounded shocked _and_ interested. Fascinated. 

It still made Felicity blush. She refused to avert her eyes though. She tried really hard not to sound defensive as she retorted, “I’m a computer nerd. Have been since before puberty. _Of_ _course_ I read Fan Fiction?”

Okay. Felicity really had _meant_ to say that in the past tense. 

Oliver didn’t call her on it. 

He jumped right to asking, breathlessly, “What kind?”

Was it Felicity’s imagination or did Oliver lean closer when he asked it? 

“I dunno…” Felicity chewed on her lip. She refused to be embarrassed. “ _Dr. Who. X-Files. Game of Thrones_ …” Why were they talking about this? She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter _what_ I’ve read,” or still read, “what matters is that Sex Pollen is a device used to get two people who have been resisting each other to have sex. It can be in the form a of gas, a shot, touch—”

“Wait,” Oliver pulled his head back and put some necessary (and very annoying) space between them. He blinked as if trying to clear his thoughts, then narrowed his eyes. “What does this have to do with what’s going on _here_? Has this…’Sex Pollen’ been used on actual, _non_ -fictional people?”

“Not that I know of. Until now anyway…” Felicity glanced over her shoulder at the laptop.

Wow, that was a lot of nakedness. 

Felicity swallowed an ‘eep’ and turned back to Oliver. He looked like he was just about at the end of his rope.

“What does something from amateur fiction have to do with what’s happening _here? Now_?” Oliver demanded and Felicity opened her mouth to…yeah, she had nothing. “It doesn’t even make sense. Why would someone go through all this trouble just to get two people to have sex—”

“Well, that’s the _author’s_ motivation. Not the villain of the piece. They—”

“Felicity, can we stop talking about your on-line erotica,” Oliver all but yelled.

But there was a look in Oliver’s eyes that made Felicity think there was a part of him that wanted _nothing_ _more_ than to talk about her experience with on-line erotica. 

“We need to figure out what is going on _here_. In _real_ life. Is there a plant that releases a pollen that causes people to…?” Oliver waved at the screen he refused to look at. It was adorable how hard he tried not to.

“Oh. Oh. In Marvel comics there is. _That’s_ why they call the trope Sex Pollen.” Felicity grinned widely, kinda proud of that obscure bit of trivia.

Oliver looked distracted then. He got that melty look he often got when Felicity smiled at him. It made her feel a little smug even though she could tell he was fighting it. 

It also totally took the bite out of Oliver’s words when he finally asked, “ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ , is there an _actual_ , real-life, biological plant that produces pollen that—?”

“Makes people become nymphomaniacs, completely unable to control their sexual impulses?” Felicity supplied. 

To be helpful.

Oliver gave her a terse nod and swallowed. There was a drop of perspiration on his Adam’s apple as it moved. It was very distracting.

Still Felicity managed to say, “Not that I know of.” 

Oliver groaned his frustration, his head falling back.

It emphasized his strong and powerful neck, which made it down-right impressive when Felicity was able to launch into a more thorough explanation, “It’s just _called_ Sex Pollen. Usually, its a fancy synthetic pheromone-slash-drug combination. Which is more likely here.” 

See, that was useful.

Ish. 

If Felicity kept throwing out knowledge on the topic something applicable to their situation had to come out.

Oliver nodded, looking like he was considering the ramifications of that. 

So the strategy must be working.

“Oh,” Felicity bounced up on her toes as she remembered, “or alien spores. Lots of times the Sex Pollen is actually alien sex spores.”

This time Oliver’s eyes widened in horror. He probably would have had a very different reaction if he _hadn’t_ been trapped on an alien space ship just two weeks earlier. 

“But the Dominators left. We _know_ they left.”

Did they? Felicity shrugged. But she really didn’t think this was the Dominators MO either, so she reassured, “They aren’t the only aliens out there.”

Judging by the look on Oliver’s face, that observation might not have been as reassuring as Felicity’d hoped. 

“Why would aliens… _any_ aliens care if we…” Oliver’s eyes widened even more comically at the implication he made and he rushed to add, “If _anyone_ here has sex!?”

“A social experiment? To observe us? To harvest alien babies? To distract us while they invade our planet,” Felicity ticked off the various reasons, each one she’d read somewhere. Then she realized she was about to give Oliver an aneurism. “But its much more likely it’s a human. Maybe a Count Vertigo wannabe. Or a disillusioned biochemist trying to steal… _something_ while we’re all distracted.”

Oliver didn’t seem to like those options either, but his head looked less ready to explode so yay for that. 

Blowing out a breath, Oliver grunted, “Do you have any potential candidates in mind? Human candidates? Because Sex Pollen is way to ridiculous for Prometheus.”

Felicity tried not to bristle. Because Prometheus was a _serious_ villain. _He’d_ never bother with drugging people to have nonconsensual/dubious consensual sex. 

This time Felicity _did_ roll her eyes. “I admit he doesn’t seem the type to read Fan Fiction—”

“What does _that_ have to do with anything?” Oliver roared and Felicity reared back, frowning. 

_That_ was uncalled for.

Now Felicity was starting to be offended. Poking Oliver in the chest (it _was_ right there) she argued, “You had better bet anyone who is enough of a biochemical genius to create _this_ has read Fan Fiction.”

Oliver let out what Felicity could only describe as a roar, then turned and paced away from her. And, on one hand, that was good because it allowed her to breathe, but on the other…um, she preferred it when he was in poking distance. 

For _reasons_.

“ _Enough_ with the Fan Fiction!” Also, distance seemed to make Oliver cranky. “This is real life, not erotica based on ludicrous science fiction kinks! How popular could this stupid _Pollen_ trope be anyway!”

It might be the same distance that made Felicity fire back, “It’s very popular I’ll have you know. It’s _not_ ludicrous,” okay maybe it was a _little_ , “it serves a serious psychological purpose. A fantasy where woman can have the dirtiest, most adventurous sex without feeling responsible for her actions.”

Oliver threw her a wide-eyed, incredulous look.

It just made Felicity more defensive. “And woman wouldn’t _need_ fantasies that gave them excuses to have hot ‘ _forbidden’_ sex, if society didn’t have all those stupid virgin-in-the-living-room, whore-in-the-bed-room expectations.”

His mouth fell open and Felicity didn’t know if Oliver looked affronted or guilty.

“And, you know what, its actually a whole lot sexier than the stupid pizza boy/copier man tropes in men’s porn—”

“Okay. Okay…” Oliver held up his hands, looking totally beaten and more than a little desperate. “As much as I would love to debate men’s porn vs women’s porn in all there varied forms,” he broke off with a little laugh, an I-can’t-believe-this-is-my-life laugh, “it should probably wait until _after_ we make sure no one’s life is in danger. We need to help or… _get_ help to all those people downstairs.”

Oh. 

Okay. Good point. That probably was the priority. 

Clamping her mouth shut, Felicity nodded and turned back to the computer. She minimized the live-action porn flick and pulled up the team’s emergency messaging system. “I’m sending a SOS to John and the bunker.”

“Any communication? From anyone?”

Felicity flipped through every way the team had of messaging her and found nothing. “No, I—what the hell are you doing?” 

Oliver sent her a glare. “Taking off my jacket.”

That’s what it _looked_ like Oliver was doing. 

Actually, it looked like Oliver was wrenching the offending garment from his body with maximum sexiness and it was making her already wet panties uncomfortably soaked.

“Why?” It was a squeak. An inane one at that.

“Because I’m _hot_ , Felicity,” Oliver snapped and Felicity bit her lip to keep from agreeing. “I’m sweating like a pig in this thing.”

Oliver threw the once pristine jacket away and, yeah, he uh…he’d perspired straight through his expensive white dress shirt. And now it was clinging to him like a wet t-shirt. 

Then there were the suspenders. He needed them because his waist was too trim to keep his pants in place. Because of those beautiful abs…

Felicity had to grab the desk to keep her knees from buckling. Her mouth watered and…well, at least she didn’t have to worry about a dry throat any more.

Then Oliver was walking toward her, stalking really, and Felicity couldn’t wait to get her hands all over that wet sweaty—

“Felicity, I hate to ask you this but…?”

“Mmhmm?” Felicity gulped, trying so very hard to keep her eyes on his face. 

If she looked hard enough, Felicity was sure she’d be able to see the outline of Oliver’s nipples as the shirt clung to him—

“Can you, _please_ ,” Oliver swallowed, “look at that video and…make sure my sister is okay.”

“Oh.” Now she felt like an irresponsible horn-dog. “Of course,” Felicity answered, registering the pained look on Oliver’s face and responding instinctively. She maximized the camera feed and…tried not to blanch at the images. 

“Thank you,” Oliver breathed. 

He didn’t see Felicity’s pained expression. Oliver was too busy _not_ looking at the monitor. She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t want to look either.

Oliver turned away completely, leaning against the desk and gripping the edge until his knuckles were white as he stared out the window. He was still so close. His arm only inches from hers. 

Felicity really didn’t want to see Thea or _anyone_ in the middle of that…sea of flesh, but she understood Oliver’s need was greater in this so…she scanned the various faces, switching cameras as soon as she was sure she didn’t see the one she was looking for. 

God, she knew so many of these people. Watching porn was weird enough, but it was so much weirder when she knew more than half the people involved. When had she become so damn socially active? Well, after today Felicity may be hiding in the Loft. Or the Bunker. She didn’t know how she was going to look any of these people in the eye again. 

Best to look at this dispassionately. Professionally even. She could do this. Yup, she could.

Felicity scanned one screen and then another. There were more than twenty cameras in that ballroom. 

“Well, the good news is no one looks like they are in pain,” Felicity said with a forced cheerfulness, feeling the need to fill the silence. “In fact, they seem to be enjoying themselves. No one would know it wasn’t consensual.”

Oliver grunted and, yeah, they both knew consent had nothing to do with this. But if even one person looked scared or abused, Felicity didn’t know what she’d do. Didn’t know what _Oliver_ would do.

“Oh. I think I found Thea.” Yup, that was her in the off the shoulder dress. “Her clothes are still on.” Which was as surprising as it was a relief. Thea was a little disheveled but had on a lot more than most.

“Really?” Oliver’s voice was hopeful and he turned to look, probably forgetting himself for a moment because he just as quickly averted his eyes. Gulping, he asked in a small voice, “Is she okay?”

Felicity watched as Thea crooked her finger at an attractive but far less dressed man. The younger woman sauntered toward him, stepping over a copulating couple on the floor as if it were nothing. “Yup, she looks okay to—opp!”

“What? Is she in trouble? Do I need to…?” Oliver’s eyes flicked toward the monitor and away again. The indecision must be making him dizzy.

All while Felicity stared with wide eyes and tried really hard not to laugh. Because laughing was _so_ not the appropriate response. “Considering Thea just threw Jerome down behind a Christmas tree—”

“Jerome? My body guard, Jerome?” Oliver growled, giving in and whipping back around, his eyes boring into the screen. “What did he do to my sister?”

“Ah…I don’t think that was a defensive throw. In fact, I’d say that was more of a…throw him down and have her way with him kinda throw.”

They both watched as Thea hiked up her skirt and climbed on top of the well-built man.

“I’m just going to switch cameras now—”

“ _Please_.”

“Hmmm. At least, Paul and Curtis seem to have made-up.”

“Huh. I always thought Curtis was more of a top.”

“Really? Why?”

“Bigger than Paul I guess.”

“Yeah…but also, _Curtis_.”

“True. I could have lived without seeing Paul’s naked ass.”

“He’s got one of the best looking asses there.”

Oliver let out a gurgling noise. “Can you…?”

“Yup,” Felicity popped her ‘p’ and clicked to the next camera. She was having a hard time looking away now. It was like a multi-car pile up. “Is that…?”

“Susan?” Oliver squeaked. “Uhh huh.”

Now he _really_ sounded like he was in pain. Felicity couldn’t blame him, given his girlfriend was completely naked and riding some…Felicity couldn’t see the man Susan was fucking, but she had a great view of the woman’s bouncing breasts. Bile rose in her throat. 

“That’s not something I can unsee,” Felicity muttered and there was no way she could keep the disgust from her voice. 

“Is that councilman Berret’s…”

And, sure enough, the councilman was kneeling behind her massaging her breasts. It made Felicity want to gag, but Susan’s face was contorted in ecstasy. She tried not to sound petty when she drawled, “Wrinkled hands all over your girlfriend’s breasts? Yup.” Unfortunately, Felicity didn’t think she succeeded.

“She’s not…you know what? That’s enough.” Oliver reached over Felicity and clicked the mouse, switching to the next camera. “Oh look here. Detective Small Hands is _very_ busy,” he snarked and if Felicity had sounded petty, Oliver sounded downright childish.

But as much as she wanted to send Oliver a death glare, Felicity couldn’t take her eyes off her boyfriend. Her naked except for one sock and his black silk shirt hanging off his shoulders, boyfriend. And the three equally naked woman with their hands _and_ mouths all over him.

“Is that your EA…?” Felicity squeaked out.

“With her mouth on your boyfriend’s cock? Sure is.”

Felicity did throw Oliver a glare this time and he had the grace to look ashamed. She frowned back at the scene and…she was completely icked out by the whole thing, but not nearly as jealous as she would have thought.

In fact, Felicity realized with a terrifying clarity that she didn’t feel nearly as jealous watching Billy have sex with three women as she did _imagining_ Oliver have sex with Susan Williams.

And that was so not good.

“Did you say Detective Small Hands?” Felicity muttered as she tried to find something to latch on to. Her boyfriend might be getting it on with three different women but the thoughts she was having about her ex might be an even greater betrayal. Getting angry at Oliver, it might be the best defense she had. “What the hell does _that_ mean?”

Oliver gave Felicity a wide-eyed innocent look. She couldn’t find a speck of guilt in his shrug. “Just that he has small hands.”

“What? He doesn’t have small hands!” Felicity defended, wrinkling her nose. 

Oliver could be such a bastard. Small hands? Talk about ridiculous. And petty and childish and…

Oh God. Felicity was finding Oliver’s jealousy attractive. Some stupid idiotic place in her malfunctioning brain was telling her the childishness of it was adorable. And the alpha male routine was hot…

What the fuck was _wrong_ with her?

“How would _you_ know how big his hands are?” Felicity bit out, grasping at straws, hoping to make Oliver uncomfortable. 

Except, the more she imagined Oliver glaring at Billy, sizing him up and looking for flaws, the more _warm_ she felt. _Crap_.

Shrugging, Oliver rocked back on his heels. He was trying so hard for casual but was way too twitchy to pull it off. “It’s obvious. His hands are small. Dainty.”

“Dainty?” Felicity huffed, not sure if she was more offended on Billy’s behalf or angry at herself for enjoying Oliver’s nonsense.

“Yeah, he’s…I know you were into Barry at one point, but usually…I thought you liked _bigger_ guys. More masculine.”

“He’s plenty masculine,” Felicity scoffed and Oliver scowled. Good. Full of himself much? It was clear who the _bigger,_ more _masculine_ man was in this scenario. “That’s…that’s…” Felicity sputtered and that pissed her off more than anything. “At least my taste doesn’t lean toward evil brunettes.”

As a blow at least that one hit its mark. Oliver crossed his arms over his chest, his sweaty well-defined big _masculine_ chest, and bit out, “Excuse me?”

But if Oliver thought he could intimidate her, he’d forgotten who he was talking to. “Helena. Isabel. Susan—”

“None of whom have been my _girlfriend_ ,” Oliver growled. “Susan—”

“Sure looks like your girlfriend,” Felicity snapped back and, wow, she was on a roll now. 

It felt good. Relieved some of the tension building in her body moment by moment.

Oliver’s eyes flashed and he stepped forward, destroying anything left of her bubble. He placed his hands on his desk, on either side of her hips, caging her in, before saying, slow and deliberate, “Susan is not evil and she is _not_ my girlfriend. She is my _date_.”

Then Oliver froze, probably realizing he had admitted too much and…

Oliver wasn’t actually touching her. But he was so damn close. She swore there was this charge, like an electric field dancing in the scant inches between their bodies. Pulling her toward him. Felicity held her breath. Hoping he’d step back. Praying he wouldn’t.

He did.

Oliver wrenched himself away, taking two long strides until he was leaning over his chair and gripping the back, his eyes tightly closed. It was a long, tense minute before he grunted, “I have to go back in there and get Thea out.”

Felicity grunted. And it _wasn’t_ out of sexual frustration. Much. 

“That’s a great idea. Barge into a room full of sex crazed lunatics, grab your sister…your Crav Maga wielding sister, who looks pretty happy where she is…and what?” Felicity demanded. “Walk right back out again? I’m sure everyone there will be fine with that. Unless you _want_ to join them?”

So maybe Felicity was a little testy. 

Impossible scenarios plus sexual frustration had a tendency to do that. Especially when the frustration was over wanting someone Felicity _shouldn’t_ want while her boyfriend was relieving all of _his_ frustration with the mayor’s entire administrative staff.

“Fine! What do _you_ suggest?” Oliver threw back, as equally testy. 

But it took the wind out of Felicity’s sails all the same. “I’m trying to contact... _anyone_.” But it was starting to look like whoever messed with the system wasn’t the amateur she’d originally thought they were. “I can’t seem to get out of City Hall’s internal server. I’m locked out.”

“So no one can get in either.” Oliver didn’t sound angry any more, just resigned.

Pressing her lips together, Felicity nodded. Dammit.

She should be able to do this. Felicity was better than…whoever it was who locked her out. She couldn’t even remember the last time she hadn’t been able to get into (or out of) a system. Eventually anyway. 

The problem was, even with no gas in this room, all of Felicity’s brain-power was increasingly focused on the proximity of Oliver’s body to hers. The fire in her belly, the throbbing between her legs, it kept getting stronger. And the stronger it got, the more her considerable intelligence short-circuited.

Didn’t help that that big beautiful body was moving closer.

Again.

Oliver used to be able to sneak up on her easily and he was equally light footed tonight, but Felicity was just too hyperaware of him. Like a sixth sense. She could feel the change in the air, like sonar or something. 

Was that the effects of the gas or had it happened gradually? Had Felicity, over time, started to be able to sense Oliver without even realizing it?

He came to stand next to her this time, his hand resting on the desk right next to the keyboard. So that every time Felicity’s fingers moved to press enter her pinky grazed his hand. Unless she tried _really_ hard not to. Either way her focus was totally fraked.

His smell only seemed to get more intense. The musk. 

Sweat and cologne and sex. 

Felicity couldn’t look at the cameras anymore. She no longer saw a sea of faces, familiar and not, all she saw was her and Oliver locked in the myriad of creative sexual positions. Moaning and grunting. Their faces contorted with ecstasy.

Averting her eyes didn’t help. Felicity saw them anyway. Eyes open. Eyes closed. Her drug addled brain was happy to supply them either way.

Felicity didn’t have to ask Oliver if he thought they were in the clear because they had escaped the gas. Obviously they weren’t. 

If Felicity felt like this having escaped, no wonder the people down there were totally out of control. Hers was hanging by a thread.

It was a kiss that finally broke her.

For all the private parts and naked skin, attractive people and not so much, it was two people Felicity had never met leaning toward each other, way too close to the camera and angling their heads before coming together in a slow tongue curling kiss. Literally. She could see their tongues wrap around each other’s in an obscene dance that lit her on fire.

They used to kiss like that. 

Her and Oliver. 

It had been so long, but it had felt _so good_ and she wanted to feel that again, that drugging passion Felicity had only ever felt with Oliver. The kiss that put most full-out sex to shame. 

Felicity let out a whimper that all too quickly became a moan. 

She wished she hadn’t. Felicity wished she had something that resembled control, but it would have been easier to stop breathing than to stop that sound from falling from her lips. 

Felicity could _feel_ Oliver’s reaction. His muscles coiled. The tension in the room became almost suffocating.

She slammed the laptop shut. Violently. And that alone proved how not herself she was. Even at her most frustrated Felicity never took it out on her tech. It wasn’t the computer’s fault they were in this situation now, was it?

Even that didn’t help. Nothing seemed to dim the… _lust_ boiling up inside her. In fact, without the computer to distract her, it just came into crystal clear focus. 

Felicity’s pounding heart. Her puckered and sensitive nipples dragging against the satin lining of her dress with every ragged breath. The wetness spreading, until it covered her inner thighs. The deliciously painful ache in her core. 

And everything _Oliver_ next to her.

She’d swear she could hear every inhale and exhale, could feel the tension, the _need_ rolling off him in waves. Felicity gripped the edge of the hard mahogany desk and started to count.

At first, she told herself it was to distract herself from the very palpable sexual tension mushrooming through the room, but it quickly became apparent that what she was really doing was counting down.

Until one of them broke. 

Made the first move.

It was inevitable really. The only question was which one of them would break first.

“I’m sorry, Felicity.”

It was a soft whisper, yet it seemed to echo. And Felicity felt relief, because clearly Oliver was apologizing for what he was about to do.

Which Felicity hoped and prayed would be fuck her into this grand mayoral desk. 

Over and _over_ again. 

Until their scent permeated the wood and the mahogany was permanently marked. Every time Oliver looked at it Felicity wanted him to remember…

Even the air in her lungs felt erotic as Felicity turned her head, fully willing to meet Oliver half-way. But when she finally looked at him, she didn’t find a man ready to leap into a great sexual adventure. She found one utterly defeated.

Oliver’s knuckles were white where they clutched the desk. His eyes were closed and his back hunched over, his head hanging as he struggled with himself. Using all of his considerable strength to hold himself back.

“For what?” Felicity found herself asking. Oliver hadn’t done anything to ask forgiveness for. Unfortunately.

An intense need to reassure him, pushed its way to the forefront. Felicity wanted to run her fingers through his damp hair and press her lips to the nape of his neck. In a slow, open mouthed kiss where she sucked his salty skin between her lips, ran her tongue—

“I…for grabbing you like that and running. For—”

That snapped Felicity out of her lust haze (slightly) and she stared at Oliver incredulously. “Are you _seriously_ apologizing for not leaving me in the middle of a mindless orgy?”

Oliver let out a harsh chuckle, followed by a vehement, “No,” as he heaved himself up and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. It only made it sexier. So…not helping. “No, I—”

“Good. Because I really don’t want to be down there with Fire Chief grabby hands.” Felicity shuddered, wishing her brain didn’t insist on providing images of what might have happened to her if she hadn’t been lucky enough to be standing next to Oliver when the gas came.

Apologizing? Felicity really needed to _thank_ him. 

“No, but maybe you would rather be down there with your _boyfriend_ ,” Oliver muttered, looking as if the words hurt him to say. He wouldn’t look at her.

So that was what this was about.

Oliver’s tone was sad and self-pitying. His face twisted with guilt and…Felicity really hoped she wasn’t just seeing what she wanted to see, because it looked a lot like jealousy. A _lot_ a lot.

Though that was stupid. Not Oliver being jealous. How much Felicity seemed to want him to be. She didn’t want to hurt him. Didn’t want to get hurt. A jealous Oliver would only lead to both of those things. 

So said jealousy shouldn’t make Felicity even more aroused, something she sure as hell didn’t need help with at the moment.

Regardless, Felicity found herself considering the idea. Wasn’t able to stop herself really. She tried very hard to never compare them but…

Would Felicity rather be dosed with sex pollen and locked in a room with Billy, her boyfriend and current sexual partner? Who had never once hurt her? Or with Oliver, who had shattered her heart into a million pieces? A whole lot more than once?

The answer was distressingly immediate. 

And it wasn’t about the sex. 

Sex Pollen made someone incredibly vulnerable and there was only one person in the world Felicity could stand to be with in that state. 

No, it was worse than that. When given the choice between being alone or going through this with someone else the choice was still clear.

Oliver.

If she had to be drugged with _anything_ , Felicity wanted Oliver. 

If Oliver was drugged, Felicity wanted him to be with _her_. 

Tomorrow, when she could think clearly again that revelation was going to be both enlightening and so very distressing. But now…

Felicity turned to face him, took the smallest step closer. “I’m very glad you got me out of there. Thank you.”

Only Oliver’s head turned but… _God_ , his eyes were blue. And his lips, so damn full. Felicity had missed them. So much. 

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty…_ ” Oliver groaned, his head dipping so that she felt the puffs of air against her face. “I need you to stop doing that.”

Doing what?

It was than that Felicity realized she was on her tip toes, both of her hands on him. One on his back, the other his bicep, her thumbs caressing as she swayed toward him.

Oh.

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty._ ” 

This time her name was a growl. One that Felicity felt in her clit. It had her eyes fluttering closed. “You’re not making it better,” she found herself groaning.

“And you are?” Oliver’s voice was desperate. And in direct opposition to the way he straightened and turned toward her, one hand still grasping the desk, the other coming to rest on her waist.

The motion made Felicity’s hands drag over him, but they refused to stop touching. When Felicity forced her eyes open, her palms were lying on Oliver’s chest. She licked her lips and whispered, “Sorry.” 

It was one of the least genuine things she had ever said.

“You know I wouldn’t let anyone touch you, right?”

Oliver’s gruff promise caught Felicity unawares. His thoughts must be as scattered as hers. Was he imagining her stuck down in the nympho room?

Well, Felicity was imagining it. Only it was different this time. This time she saw Oliver standing in front of her, half naked and growling (he was rather Tarzan-like in this particular fantasy) as he flung away anyone who dared approach her. Protecting her.

It was in technicolor, this movie in her mind, and it brought with it such a wave of need Felicity wasn’t sure how she stayed upright.

“Even my…boyfriend?” 

Felicity wasn’t sure why she asked such a stupid question. To remind them why they shouldn’t do this? Well, if that was the intent it came out far too sultry. She was sure the question was as confusing as frak for Oliver. It certainly confused her.

Because in her daydream Oliver was keeping him away too. Her boyfriend. The man who’s name Felicity couldn’t bring herself to even think. Or…fuck, she’d forgotten his name again.

“I…”

While mentioning what’s-his-name didn’t seem to dampen Felicity’s ardor at all…it seemed to have the effect of throwing cold water at Oliver. He jerked away from her, stepping back. 

It was probably for the best. 

Still, the loss of contact was painful and Felicity found herself lashing out, “Though it would be hard for you to keep men away from _me_ , with all the woman, and men for that matter, throwing themselves at _you_. But maybe you wouldn’t mind that part.”

It was only after Felicity had spat out her venom that she registered that Oliver looked like he wanted to cry. 

And in punishment, Felicity’s brain provided a horrible picture of an Oliver-centered orgy. Susan right in the middle. 

And Felicity no where in sight.

Now she was going to be sick.

“I’m pretty sure I’d be too busy punching to fuck anyone.” Oliver’s pronouncement started out irritated, but by the time he got to the end it just sounded distressed. And honest. 

So honest.

It banished all those ugly images and replaced them with…

 _God_.

“Well, there _are_ a lot of woman for you to defend,” Felicity murmured and she didn’t recognize her own voice. So low and raspy. “Thea. Me. Your _girlfriend_.” 

It wasn’t an accusation. It might have even been teasing. But it was aggressive. Felicity found herself erasing the distance Oliver had put between them as she spoke. She was stalking him and she didn’t know how to stop.

“She’s _not_ my girlfriend,” Oliver protested in a frustrated whisper, staring at her with wide eyes, utterly still. Looking like prey. The kind that wanted to be eaten. “She was _just_ my date.”

“She was certainly acting like your girlfriend.” Felicity couldn’t remember _her_ name ether. Not anymore. She took that final step into Oliver’s space, laying her hand on his chest. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt. She wouldn’t be able to feel his heat so profoundly if he was. 

“How wa—”

Felicity’s hand curled over his loosened tie and gave the slightest of tugs. Oliver let her pull him in but when they were a bare a half-inch apart, he murmured, “We can’t do this.”

Excuse…? What?

Okay, _that was_ what a metaphorical bucket of cold water felt like.

Felicity flinched, her hand fell from his tie and she stepped back until she ran into the desk (there really wasn’t far to go). It didn’t matter. Oliver was pacing away from her again.

What was Felicity _doing_? Trying to seduce her ex-fiancé in the middle of a crisis while her boyfriend, whats-his-name, and Oliver’s (so-called) not-girlfriend, bitchy-mcreporter-shrew, were drugged out of their minds five floors down? 

This was especially insane given Felicity had been the one to break up with Oliver _and_ rebuff all his efforts to reconcile or even _talk_. 

Felicity had extremely good reasons too. Even if they were currently alluding her as surely as that guy with the small hands’ name.

Of course, Felicity could blame it all on the Sex Pollen. Wasn’t that the point of _Sex Pollen_ after all?

And, wow, it was a good thing they hadn’t gotten the full dose, because Felicity really couldn’t imagine wanting Oliver _more_. 

As Felicity was debating, trying to figure out what she was doing and _should_ do, there was a video back drop in her head. Of her and Oliver doing all sorts of things. All naked. 

Kinky things. Vanilla things. Things they had never done. Things they had very much done. 

Those may better be described as memories. Vivid. In surround-sound. Triple X rated. Memories.

Because Felicity had been dosed with Sex Pollen and locked in a room (voluntarily, btw) with her ex-fiancé, who she was _definitely_ still attracted to and might even, possibly still be in love with. 

Which was a complete lie because Felicity knew there was no ‘might’ or ‘possibly’ about it. 

Sex Pollen seemed to be awful for the willful denial Felicity had been practicing. 

And then, because anything resembling self-control had left the building, Felicity found her eyes drifting over Oliver’s way too gorgeous form and, wow, those dress pants left little to the imagination. God, she’d missed…

Blinking and shaking her head, Felicity forced herself to look back at Oliver’s face. “Right. Of course. Except… _why_ can’t we do this?” 

Felicity genuinely couldn’t remember.

“Because…because…” Oliver was searching the room desperately, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Because of your boyfriend…your _Billy_ …”

Right. That was his name. Billy. Felicity didn’t think she had ever heard Oliver insert so much venom into a name before. And that was saying something.

“Right, my Billy…” Felicity repeated his name but it was already starting to slip away again. She probably _should_ be feeling guilty about that. And she tried to. She did. “What’s the name of your assistant again? The one with the impressive gag reflex?”

Maybe _that_ was why she didn’t feel guilty.

Yup, that was Felicity’s story and she was sticking to it.

“She was _drugged_ , Felicity!” Oliver roared, turning on her. But then he let out something that sounded like a sob. “Just like you and I are _drugged_! Gah!” He threw back his head and stepped backward until he hit the wall, his eyes closed. He turned from her and dropped his forehead to the wall with a ‘thunk’. “We can’t do this,” he muttered. “We can’t do this.”

“Okay,” Felicity murmured, tears pricking her eyes.

Maybe Oliver didn’t want her anymore. Maybe he was over her and that was why he was here with the dragon lady. Maybe he kept saying he was okay with whatshisname because he was _actually_ okay with whatshisname.

“Can’t do this,” Oliver repeated for the upteenth time.

Felicity snapped. “Look, if you’re no longer attracted to me just say so. You don’t have to play the martyr!”

Oliver’s answering laugh was loud and frightening. “Felicity…” He wrenched himself around and slumped back against the wall. It put the tent in his pants into prominent display. It was beyond obscene in its size. “That will _never_ be an issue.”

Okay, so maybe Felicity was being irrational. But she was drugged and aroused and alone with Oliver and it had been _so damn_ long since he’d touched her, _really_ touched her and maybe that was fucking painful! 

“So what is the issue?” Felicity yelled and in some distant part of her brain it felt out-of-character for her but she couldn’t stop.

“Because we’re _drugged_ ,” Oliver yelled back, even louder. “That means we aren’t in our right minds. It means we can’t give consent. We’ve essentially been given a date rape drug!”

Okay. Oliver had a point there.

A very ugly, but undeniably excellent point.

“I suppose,” Felicity frowned. That should be making her want to fight what she was feeling, right? “Except neither of us _gave_ the other the drug. We’re both equally affected by it,” please let that be true, “so it _can’t_ be rape. This is—”

“What, Felicity? What is it?” Oliver roared again and he really looked like he was losing it. “Rape by a third party?”

“Kinda.” Felicity wasn’t sure but she really wished Oliver would stop using that word. “The important thing here is that you and I and… _everyone_ in the room down there is equally a victim. The…perpetrator is out _there_ ,” she gestured wildly at the window, “and we will find them and you will put an arrow in them. After—”

“Felicity!” Oliver interrupted, with an even louder yell. “You _don’t_ want this. I will never forgive myself if I do something to you that you don’t want!”

“Don’t you tell me what I want! I think I’ve been pretty clear I _do_ want this!” Felicity found herself screaming it and, frak, her self-control was at an epic low.

Oliver’s eyes flashed and he took a step away from the wall, snapping, “Because of the damn Sex Pollen! Without that you sure as hell wouldn’t!”

Felicity scoffed, “Says who?!”

Yup. Filter completely gone. All control…poof! Vanished!

“Says _you_!” Oliver screamed, taking another aggressive step toward her. And damn it was hot. “Because if you _did,_ you would be ‘having me’ any time you want! All you have to do is snap your fingers!” He demonstrated and…

Oh.

Oh wow.

It made Felicity want to cry. And that was the most rational emotion she was currently dealing with. Because Oliver’s words filled her with warmth and…love. 

Fuck it. There was no lying to herself right now. It made Felicity want Oliver so fucking much and there was no blaming _this_ on the Sex Pollen.

Luckily, _that_ thought stayed behind her closed lips and all that emerged was a whimpered, “ _Oliver_ …”

“You _know_ this, Felicity. From the moment we broke up, you _knew_ I’d take you back in a heartbeat.”

Had she? If she had, Felicity hadn’t let herself think about it, not in months. She blinked open her eyes (she hadn’t even realized she had closed them) and Oliver was back in her bubble. 

Right there. Inches away.

Thank goodness. The distance had been _awful_. 

“You never had a problem with my new boyfriend,” Felicity argued in a whisper. 

She wasn’t sure why. Maybe because that was when she really considered the possibility that Oliver was over her. That she had waited too long for their ‘talk’. That he was lost to her forever because she was too much of a coward to confront all the difficult feelings tied to that hypothetical discussion.

And, _wow_ , that was the most honest Felicity had been with herself in a long long time. 

“No _problem_?” Oliver scoffed. “I’ve tried my damndest to be polite. I haven’t put an arrow in him. That’s a far cry from having ‘ _no problem_.’”

“You said you were happy for me.” 

Felicity was pushing. _Why_ was she pushing?

Because she was loving every second of this, that horrifically honest part of her brain responded. Because Felicity wanted to hear Oliver tell her how unhappy her seeing someone else made him.

And he did. Oliver gave a little half sob and said, “I want you to be _happy_ , Felicity. You are the most important person in my life. I lived without you for six horrible weeks and I never want to do it again. It was _hell_. So I’m doing everything I can to keep you here now. Even if its just as a friend and partner. Even if I want more. Every _fucking_ day I want _more_. But I smile and play nice with scrawny Detective Small Hands. And if I have to stand at your wedding…”

Oliver let out a whimper, his head falling back, and the urge to comfort him was so damn strong. With words. With touch.

But she couldn’t move. 

Felicity was frozen as every ounce of energy she had worked to wrap her drug-addled mind around what Oliver had just said. There was so much. Too much. She didn’t have the capacity right now to process it properly. But tomorrow…

Tomorrow Felicity wanted too remember every word.

“Do you think there is some sort of Truth Serum in this Sex Pollen of yours?” Oliver asked somewhat desperately, his eyes searching the ceiling. As if _that_ had the answers. “Because I think there might be some sort of Truth Serum.”

Which was Oliver admitting that everything he had just said was 100% true. That he hadn’t wanted to say it, but it was _true_. And that just made it all that more overwhelming.

And wonderful.

But, okay…Felicity needed to actually devote a brain cell or two to this new theory. 

Truth Serum? Was _that_ why she was being so painfully honest with herself?

“Maybe,” Felicity murmured. She needed to test the theory. She tried to think of a lie. “I want you,” was what she said. Which…not a lie.

Oliver’s eyes snapped to hers and his jaw fell.

“Okay, trying again,” she muttered. Felicity told herself to say something innocuous. Say his shirt was blue, instead of white. Say the sun was out. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

Yeah, _that_ wasn’t innocuous. 

Oliver’s eyes dilated and Felicity swore his…tent _jumped_.

“So Truth Serum, huh?” Felicity found herself laughing nervously. “Good call. That’s definitely…yup, definitely.”

Oliver’s eyes flashed and Felicity swore she could see the wheels in his head turning. He was processing the fact that her words were all completely honest too. Not that she had admitted nearly as much. But the implications…Truth Serum was so much more dangerous than Sex Pollen.

Felicity bit her lip to keep from spewing more truth bombs.

She took a step forward. 

And Oliver’s eyes flashed with panic. (Well, panic _and_ lust). He put up a hand as if to ward her off. “Felicity, if you take one step closer, I can’t promise I’ll be able to control myself. And if you blame me for any of—”

“I won’t,” Felicity assured, taking another step.

But Oliver caught her hands before they could touch him. Didn’t he know that everything he said was just making Felicity want him more. Seducing her even more surely than the drugs.

“God, Felicity!”

“Did I say that out loud?”

The desperate look on Oliver’s face said she had. 

Felicity bit her lip harder, until she tasted blood. But this time it wasn’t to keep the words inside. It was because she needed to think of something to say that would snap Oliver out of his self-destructive restraint. Before it killed him.

Or before Felicity started spewing vows of love. 

And while she couldn’t imagine regretting the sex, Felicity was afraid she might regret _that_. Regret letting Oliver know too much of what she was hiding inside.

But…

Before it killed him…

Felicity smiled.

She took one last step, trapping the hands Oliver had restrained between their bodies, and said, “You know what else is in a lot of those Sex Pollen stories?”

“Truth serum?” Oliver croaked and poor boy, his higher brain function might be glitching even worse than hers.

Felicity shook her head. “No. But…in a lot of them, _most_ of them really, if the people infected don’t have sex, they,” she shrugged, “well, die.”

“ _What!_?” Oliver looked genuinely horrified. “You can’t be serious.”

“Yup,” Felicity annunciated, wrapping her hands around those suspenders. How had she not been obsessing over the suspenders? “They call it ‘Fuck-or-Die’.”

Felicity wasn’t sure if she would call the sound Oliver made a gurgle or a groan. It was somewhere in between.

“So you see, you wouldn’t be violating me. You’d be _saving_ me,” Felicity murmured and she wasn’t even sure where this was coming from. She just let the words flow.

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver whimpered, swaying toward her.

“Save me, Oliver.”

And the hero that he was, he did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter (next two really) will be Oliver’s point of view. There will be a small rewind, just enough to see what he thinks about this whole mess. I’m sure most of you are ready for some broody, worshipful, self-destructive Oliver-thoughts.
> 
> I tried really hard to balance dark humor with the very real issues of consent. The release of this gas is a sex crime. I tried to be respectful of that and the trauma it caused. I hope no one is offended, though I really hope anyone who would have been triggered left after the warnings. Or wouldn’t read something labeled “Sex Pollen” in the first place.
> 
> For _To Sacrifice the Sun_ fans, thank you sooo much for the response to the last chapter. It was awesome! I promise to respond to all unanswered comments before I start posting again in the new year, when I’m hoping I can put up the last ten chapters weekly. Right now, finishing _It’s in the Air_ is my first priority. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading. Please let me know what you think!


	3. Wishes Come True, Not Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 3: Wishes Come True, Not Free**

Felicity thought Oliver didn’t get it.

The whole Sex Pollen thing. 

Why people would read and write erotica about being drugged with an aphrodisiac to the point where they couldn’t possibly be held accountable for their own actions.

_The gas made me do it._

The idea…it was a heady and powerful thing, not being responsible for your actions. The freedom alone was incredibly seductive. Terrifying, yes, but also liberating. 

Did Felicity think only woman were attracted to the idea of guilt-free debauchery? Where everything forbidden was not only for the taking, but compulsory? Even if it was for only a single night?

It felt as if someone had reached into Oliver’s head and pulled out his deepest darkest desire. Offered it to him on a silver platter.

Only the consequences…

It was like the genie in the bottle. A wish in a fairytale.

You want the girl?

Absolutely. Here you go.

Of course, it’s only for one night. And there’s a catch. Because there is always a catch. And this one was that his sister, friends, and 300 _innocent_ people would suffer for his selfish wish. And the woman he loved too. Couldn’t forget that.

Maybe if the consequences were revealed before the wish was made, he could do the right thing. But they never were and by the time he knew…well, there was no backsies. God, if only for _once_ there was backsies.

But in fairytales and life there very seldom were, at least not In Oliver’s life. He made his choice, his _wish_ , and now he had to deal with the consequences. _Everyone_ had to deal with the consequences.

Might as well enjoy the spoils while they lasted.

What?

_No_!

What the hell? This goddamn Truth Serum wouldn’t even allow Oliver the luxury of pretending he was a moral person, even to himself. Only naked honesty for him. 

Oliver was grateful this fun twist didn’t kick in until _after_ the Sex Pollen discussion or Felicity would know _exactly_ how he felt about being drugged with an aphrodisiac and trapped in a room with her for the night.

Here’s a clue, Oliver wasn’t exactly despondent over the idea.

Even without Felicity knowing that, there was a very good chance their friendship wouldn’t survive the night.

He’d known it was coming. Just a matter of time. 

This was how Oliver had been living. For a _long_ time now. Just waiting to mess up enough for Felicity to decide it wasn’t worth it any more. For the final nail in the coffin, the end to their partnership and friendship. 

Oliver had been walking on eggshells for a while now.

And there was a good chance this was it. The metaphorical straw that collapsed it all. And _fuck_ it terrified him. 

It had been a long time since he’d been this scared. Oliver didn’t have a lot left to lose. He’d pretty much given up on the idea of happiness. But if Felicity left the team again…

It was that thought that kept him from losing his last thread of control. The sharp bite of fear that allowed Oliver restraint when every cell of his body wanted to give in.

Unfortunately, it was becoming increasingly clear that Felicity didn’t have anything holding _her_ back and, fuck, that was dangerous. 

Oliver warned her. He goddamn _warned_ her. He was one touch away from going feral. From becoming a mindless beast intent on nothing but pleasure.

It didn’t seem to faze Felicity in the slightest though.

But then again, Felicity didn’t have the same skin in the game. Oliver would never leave her. Never. In this she had all the power.

Did she know that? Was that why Felicity ignored Oliver’s warning and stepped into his space, placed her soft, warm hands on his chest? Curled her fingers around his suspenders?

_Fuck_.

It could also be that the gas was affecting her even more than it was Oliver. Felicity was so small. Were her blood levels higher? He didn’t know if it worked that way, but considering how intensely his body was reacting, it was frightening to imagine hers being affected _more_.

And Felicity was so fucking close and Oliver loved her so _fucking_ much. 

Oliver clenched his jaw, trying to keep that particular thought _inside_. Though he was increasingly sure it wouldn’t last the night. That was a truth that was too prominent in his thoughts. Keeping it from his lips while he was feeling like this…

He wasn’t going to survive this.

Felicity was barely touching him. It was just her hands curled around his suspenders, her knuckles grazing his chest. Yet Oliver could _feel_ her. 

With every particle of his being, Oliver could _feel_ her. Already his tongue held Felicity’s taste. And her smell…

It wasn’t just Felicity’s usual sweet soft scent, the one that lingered in the bunker, on his clothing. Soothing and understated. No, Oliver could smell her _arousal_.

Strong and pungent. Fucking intoxicating.

Increasingly irresistible.

Then Felicity told him this bullshit gas could kill them. That they had to fuck or die.

Who the hell came up with this stuff?

Whoever it was was a _genius_.

Because seriously? Make love to Felicity or die? Or _she_ could die? Could they give Oliver a more compelling reason to do _exactly what he wanted_? Was this the act of the devil or his guardian angel?

His hands opened and closed as he tried to figure out what to do. What the right thing was. Oliver had to do whatever was best for Felicity, but was that touching her or not touching her?

God, Oliver wanted to touch. So damn badly. But once he did, he knew he was done. There would be no going back.

So, of _course_ , Felicity had to up the ante. 

“You wouldn’t be violating me. You’d be _saving_ me,” Felicity rasped, her chin tipped up so Oliver could feel the heat of her breath against his throat, his jaw. 

Just the slightest turn of his head and they’d be kissing. Christ, how Oliver wanted to kiss her. And not the soft and gentle kiss Felicity deserved. He wanted to fucking _devour_ her.

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver whimpered and it was both a warning and a plea.

“Save me, Oliver.”

It was the last straw. The very last. As surely Felicity, genius that she was, knew it would be.

Oliver lost it.

His hands closed over her waist and Oliver yanked Felicity against him so quickly she yelped.

Not in a bad way.

In fact, Oliver would swear she murmured, “My hero,” just before their mouths met.

The words, even more than the feel of Felicity’s lips under his, of her body in his arms, her hands on his nape…

A rush of warmth…

Of love…

Of _completion_ swept through Oliver, washing away everything else. Until _this_ was the only thing that existed.

Their lips fused, their heads tipping at the exact same moment, at just the right angle. With a practiced perfection. Their tongues tangled and…

But there was still a tiny niggling in the back of his head. Something whispering they shouldn’t be doing this.

But that couldn’t be.

Why on earth shouldn’t he kiss Felicity? Oliver loved her so much. Shouldn’t he show her that? God, he wanted to show her. Wanted to worship her.

And then there was the way Felicity’s tongue stroked Oliver’s, neither dominating or passive, giving as good as she got. She clearly wanted this too.

The plump perfection of her lips. The taste. Mmm…champagne flavored Felicity.

How could _this_ be wrong? 

Nothing in Oliver’s life had ever felt this _right_. 

It wasn’t a new feeling. Oliver had felt it many, many times. But now…it clicked into place, like the missing piece that held his soul together. Felicity was the most _right_ thing in his life. Sometimes the only right thing. 

And always the best thing. 

Always. 

So, no, nothing was wrong. Couldn’t be. 

Felicity was in Oliver’s arms. The world was as it should be.

One soft capable hand threaded into his hair as their tongues danced, Felicity’s nails dragging against his scalp and…Oliver wanted to purr. Maybe he did. Though he thought it was more of a moan.

Either way, Felicity seemed to like it. She melted even further into his body, making him grip her tighter, to hold her up right as much as to maximize contact. She let out a moan of her own and the sound reverberated through their kiss and, God, Oliver felt it straight to his cock.

_Fuck_ , was it good.

But still, Oliver needed her closer.

He was pretty damn sure it was what she needed too and what Felicity wanted Felicity got. That was a rule Oliver did his best to live by. So his hand curled over her ass, lifting her up. 

Felicity moaned again and…it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. _Christ_.

Skin. 

Oliver needed skin. 

_They_ needed skin.

The hand not holding Felicity’s delightful ass slid into the back of her dress, his callouses dragging against her skin and Oliver would worry that it wasn’t the best sensation if the whimper that left her mouth wasn’t dripping with delight. She sucked on his tongue in a way that told him that there was no mistaking how much she was enjoying this.

That knowledge had Oliver’s muscles uncoiling, allowing him to sink even further into their kiss. Deeper. Their teeth clanked and that was perfect too.

Felicity threw a leg over Oliver’s hip, a clear sign that she was growing frustrated with their height difference. That there wasn’t enough contact, enough friction. That places that needed to be touching weren’t.

Not enough.

None of which was something Oliver could argue with. Or wanted to.

If Felicity desired closer, Felicity was going to get closer. If she wanted more, lord help him but Oliver would go to the ends of the earth to give it to her. 

The hand on her ass slid down to curve around her thigh, lifting her higher, slipping under Felicity’s dress and getting another handful of delicious skin. The heel of her shoe hooked over Oliver’s ass and pulled him in. Her hips rolled, attempting to grind against him.

She was ready. So fucking ready.

Felicity’s thighs were wet and slick and Oliver wasn’t even close to her panties.

Holy Christ was she ready.

But Oliver wasn’t in a rush.

He wanted inside her with a burning lust that reverberated all the way to his soul, but the need to savor her was just as strong. Stronger. Oliver wanted to touch every inch of her skin. To taste. _All_ of her. 

No it wasn’t a want. A desire. It was a necessity. He _had_ to.

Felicity didn’t seem to be feeling quite as patient. She’d never been patient in bed. It was something Oliver adored about her. 

And, right then, Felicity was as desperate as he’d ever seen her. It was evident in every moan that fell from her lips and in the constant, frenzied motions of her hips. In the way she yanked at Oliver’s hair as she pulled him to her. In the uncoordinated, frantic movements of her lips and tongue.

But Oliver would make it worth the wait. He’d learned unrelenting patience over the years and he was glad to share it with Felicity. It would make it better for her and that was all he wanted. All that mattered.

One second, Felicity was running her tongue over the roof of Oliver’s mouth with desperate strokes, the next she was wrenching her mouth away as she sucked in deep lungfuls of air.

The loss was painful. Oliver needed contact…he needed…

Oliver cupped the back of her neck and attached his lips to her jaw. It helped. And Felicity seemed to approve. The moan she let out made his knees weak and she pushed her skin into his mouth, offering herself to him.

The “ _Oliver_ …yesss…” was another sure sign and he smiled against her skin. “ _God_!”

Felicity’s hands curled over Oliver’s shoulders, her short nails digging into his muscles through the fabric of his dress shirt.

Why was he still dressed?

Why was _she_ still dressed?

But removing clothing would mean loosening his hold and that seemed inconceivable at that moment.

Oliver ran his lips and tongue down the length of her neck, dipping into the hollow of her throat, determined to take advantage of any skin available to him. Felicity tasted good, so fucking _amazingly_ good. Salty and sweet. 

More. 

He needed more.

Felicity still had ahold of his hair and she yanked him closer. For leverage, it seemed. The one foot she was balancing on left the floor and curled over his thigh. Oliver caught her, hiking her higher.

All of it was one seamless motion. No fumbling. No awkwardness. They moved together intuitively. Just another example of how right this was. 

Never once did Oliver’s lips leave Felicity’s skin. His mouth’s odyssey went uninterrupted, now laving the skin between her breasts. Then, nosing away the edge of her dress, Oliver snuck his tongue under the fabric to explore the slope of her breasts. 

All to a constant chorus of mewls and gasps. God, Oliver had missed those sounds.

Missed.

Oliver had missed this.

_All of this._

Touch and taste and sound. And something deeper. The connection.

But why would he miss this? How long had it been?

_Christ_. Why was it so hard to _think_? 

There was something different too. This felt like more than the usual intoxication Oliver felt when he was with Felicity. His brain was fuzzier. 

A _lot_ fuzzier.

“Oliver…Oliver…Oliver…” Felicity chanted as she clawed at him, trying to get closer. Trying to climb him like a tree. 

Jesus _Christ_ , did Oliver want to let her.

But as much as Oliver loved it, as much as having Felicity here was right…there was something wrong and he needed to _think_.

“Please, _Oliverrr_ …”

But he couldn’t deny her either. Oliver didn’t have that sort of strength. He lifted her, stepping forward and perching Felicity on the edge of the desk. 

_His_ desk. 

His office. 

In City Hall. 

Something about that tickled the edge of Oliver’s memory even as he sent a penholder and whatever else was on there flying. He was careful to avoid the laptop though. Destroying tech was a sure-fire way to kill the mood for Felicity. Oliver wasn’t _that_ out of it.

She gasped and laughed as the rest of his crap crashed to the floor, the sound breathless and aroused. It went to Oliver’s head, further fogging up his brain. He only seemed capable of focusing on Felicity. Nothing strange about that.

Though Oliver had never experienced such a pleasant fog before. Not even in his ill-conceived college years.

Of course, Felicity wasn’t there then.

Still, this seemed like something Oliver should be concerned about. It had been a long time since he was the stupid boy who thought not being able to think clearly was a good thing. Danger could materialize in a moment and a sluggish brain was deadly.

And Oliver had Felicity’s safety to consider.

Oliver pulled back. Just enough to breathe. To try to clear his head. 

To really take her in.

_God_ , she was gorgeous. Breathtaking. 

His _Felicity_. 

And she had never looked more exquisite than she did tonight. Flushed and glowing in the dim lighting, Felicity’s skin caught the lights from the floor lamps even though she was still fully clothed.

Oliver raked his eyes over her. From her artfully arranged curls and smoky heavy-lidded eyes, down her arched neck to her dress…God, her _dress_. Green and gold. He had such a fucking weakness for Felicity in dark green.

His hands found her thighs and slid up, bringing the dress with him, coming so close to…

Felicity responded with an incoherent moan, untangling her legs from his hips and throwing them wide, causing Oliver’s breath to hitch and catch in his throat. She threw one arm back, bracing herself on the desk so she could arch back and…

Display herself like a gift.

Shit.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She was the sexiest thing Oliver had ever seen.

He wanted her.

He loved her.

He _needed_ her.

So why wasn’t he taking her?

Felicity was his.

Right?

Oliver’s gift. His Christmas gift.

Then it came to him.

The image of Felicity standing there, wearing _this_ dress, at City Hall’s Holiday party, smiling and sipping champagne…

Her hands all over another man.

And that asshole’s hands all over _his_ Felicity.

And Oliver hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about it. 

Because Felicity _wasn’t_ his. 

Not anymore.

Oliver had lost her. He’d had her and he’d lost her through his own stupidity. Because of his own idiotic choices. Now she belonged to someone else. 

Her _boyfriend_. 

Pain seared through him. Intense enough to steal his breath. Oliver squeezed his eyes shut against its onslaught. His head fell back. 

“God, _Felicity_.”

It was a wail. A cry of pain. 

Of _anger_. 

At God. At fate. At himself.

Mostly at himself. 

Because Oliver did this. He had no one else to blame. Not really.

The honest truth.

“Oliver…Oliver…what…? Why…? I need…”

His eyes snapped open at Felicity’s desperate pleas. His hands had fallen from her skin and hung limply at his sides as she stared at him in confusion. Oliver wanted to help her, to give her whatever she wanted but he couldn’t stop seeing her…with that _Asshole_. Detective fucking-what’s-his-name who wasn’t a _fraction_ of the man she deserved…

But then, neither was Oliver.

But that thought was easily pushed aside. Because Oliver’s anger had found a focus.

Not her. Not Felicity. _Never_ Felicity.

Oliver could never be truly angry at her. Not for long. Not like this. Not with this dark fiery rage.

It was always there. Deep inside him. The fury. Ugly. Malevolent. It churned inside him, waiting. For that single drop of gasoline that was all that it needed to light the fucking world up.

And tonight, that fuel was a powerful mixture of impulse-dampening truth-telling pheromones and the image of a scrawny assholes hand all over _his_ Felicity. 

Oliver would cheerfully break every finger, every bone of _every_ body part that dared to brush against her perfect skin.

But Detective Tiny Digits wasn’t here.

Which was good. Very good. For a thousand reasons. Only one of which was that it was probably saving the detective’s life.

His absence didn’t dim Oliver’s mindless jealousy though. The bitter, suffocating possessiveness took over, leaving room for only one other emotion. 

_Lust_.

And all of it coalesced into a single objective. A bone deep need to claim her. A need that was quickly surpassing all others. Including the need to breathe.

“Felicity, what do you want?” It was more a demand than a question and Oliver didn’t even know why he said it. A primitive instinct had taken over his body, leaving any piece of his brain still functioning to trail behind.

“You. God, I want _you_ ,” Felicity answered, immediately, a small desperate sob punctuating the statement. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, her chest heaving…

And then Oliver knew. 

Knew what he sought from this line of questioning and he wished he could say it was as noble as wanting to confirm consent.

His hands again curled over the bare skin of Felicity’s knees and she let out a small relieved moan, her legs falling almost imperceptibly wider. Oliver found himself smiling.

“Felicity,” Oliver rasped, rough and commanding, “ _look_ at me.”

Her eyes blinked open and…with the dress and the light, they looked green.

Her driver’s license said Felicity’s eyes were blue, Oliver knew this. But he had spent enough time staring into them to know they were as changeable as the weather.

And the green was Oliver’s favorite. It didn’t come out often, but when it did it felt like a secret, something that belonged to them and them alone. 

Which was ridiculous, he knew. But still…when Felicity’s green-tinged eyes met his it felt like a punch. It winded him. Tugged at something deep inside, twisted it up in knots.

“Say my name.” Oliver whispered it, though he knew there was nothing soft about the directive. It left no room for compromise.

Felicity swallowed and Oliver wondered if she was going to refuse. Wondered what he would do if she did.

But he would be damned if he was going to let her pretend she was with anyone but him.

The thought brought a new wave a blinding rage, whiting out Oliver’s reason.

Then Felicity met his eyes and held them, proud and undaunted as she said steadily, “Oliver.”

Thank God.

And the sound of his name on her lips…did Felicity have any idea what it did to him?

Love snuck in, interweaving through the anger, breaking it apart.

The mindless need to claim stayed strong, however.

“Now tell me, tell me what you _want_ ,” he ordered.

Because, bastard that he was, Oliver was going to use this Truth Serum to get what he wanted. The secrets locked up tight in Felicity’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, there aren’t a lot of places in the next nine chapters that would be a better place to end things than this is.
> 
> I finished the long-hand version of primary story (through Chapter 16). Unfortunately (fortunately), **mariposablue9** and **Ireland1733** have me 90% convinced that I need to add another epilogue. I’ll keep you updated, but having the main story down on paper feels like a huge accomplishment so woohoo!
> 
> Don’t forget to let me know what you think.


	4. Not Fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 4: Not Fair**

“Now tell me, tell me what you want.”

It wasn’t fair. 

This path Oliver had chosen. 

It wasn’t kind. 

Felicity couldn’t lie any more than he could and that left her defenseless to his questions and demands.

Oliver should stop. Now. Before this went too far. Before one of them did or said something that couldn’t be forgotten or brushed aside. That changed them irrevocably.

But Oliver had no defenses, why should she? For a long time now, Felicity’d had all the power in their relationship. Was _that_ fair?

It was. 

Felicity deserved to have all the power after what Oliver had done. 

Yet, even knowing that truth didn’t stop him.

The possessiveness, the jealousy, the desire….so so much desire…they all pounded through Oliver’s veins and like the countless other self-destructive impulses that had ruined his life and the lives of those around him, he couldn’t stop them. He wished he could, but he couldn’t.

Licking her lips, making them shine even more delectably, Felicity held his gaze and said slowly and deliberately, “I want _you_ , Oliver.” 

Because Felicity knew exactly what Oliver was asking. Of course, she did. But if she realized what a manipulative bastard he was being, she didn’t let on.

“I want your hands and your mouth and, God,” Felicity let out a whimper and her eyelashes fluttered, “your _cock_. I want your hard, thick cock inside me, Oliver. I need you. All of you. Please.”

Felicity’s words were more potent than any fucking gas, setting fire to his blood. Making that cock she said she wanted swell and jump. Reach for her. Only her. 

Did Felicity understand it was hers? That all of him was hers and only hers? Now and forever? 

Her words set his hands moving again, running up and down her thighs, his thumbs brushing the inside of her knees and skimming along her thighs. Each pass getting closer and closer to where they both wanted them.

And still Oliver wanted more. He wanted to ask…no _demand_ Felicity tell him that he was the only one she wanted. 

The way she was the only one he wanted.

But her answer…that was a truth Oliver wasn’t sure he wanted to know. It terrified him. But then again, he was afraid of every answer to every question. Of every word out of Felicity’s mouth. 

He wanted her truths. All of them. But at some point, some point very soon, he was going to hit on something he didn’t want to hear, to know. Felicity’s secrets might be far less dramatic than the ones locked inside Oliver’s head but they still had the power to destroy him. 

Felicity could tell Oliver her feelings for him were fading. Gone, even. Or toxic. The love so mixed with pain that they couldn’t be separated. Not ever. 

Or that her feelings for that fucking detective were growing. Stronger than what she now felt for Oliver. That her boyfriend made up for his tiny hands in other ways. That he was better. A thousand ways better. 

That Oliver would never have another chance to be with Felicity. Leaving him only a shadow of the man he was when he was with her. 

“Oliver, God _damn_ it, do I need to take over!”

Felicity’s sharp words snapped Oliver out of his spiral into self-pity.

A wave of determination took over and he moved his hands with purpose. Because he sure as hell wasn’t delivering her to detective twig-man without a fight. Right now, Felicity wanted Oliver. It might just be because of the drug, but there had to be something left that still desired him. The Truth Serum was too strong for there not to be.

And Oliver could still make her scream. Give Felicity a pleasure the tiny man would never be able to compete with.

Holding her eyes with his, Oliver slowly pushed her skirt up, until it caught between her ass and the desk, his thumbs slipping under the hem. Then Felicity rolled her hips, lifting her enough for him to slide the fabric free. 

Oliver pulled his eyes from hers to watch the dress slip under her ass, inch by delectable inch, leaving only the tiniest piece of lace and satin between them.

Licking his lips because, God, Oliver could already taste her and he craved…fuck, he _craved_ …

Catching her eyes again, Oliver slowly fell to his knees, watching her chest rise and fall under the plunging neckline of her dress, excitement lighting her eyes as he commanded, “Talk to me, Felicity.”

It was one of Oliver’s favorite things to say, perhaps the reason he had resisted giving her a code name for so long. But the words had never felt dangerous until tonight.

Oliver said them regardless. Because he was a masochist. Because he had always been braver than he was smart. Because he needed to hear the sound of her voice.

At least he was giving her a choice what to say. That was something.

Felicity’s eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and Oliver saw the distinct flare of anxiety in their blue-green depths. 

She didn’t know what to say. Maybe she was afraid of what she might reveal.

Oliver should be afraid of the same, but he wasn’t. There wasn’t anything left he wanted to keep from her. 

It was obvious she didn’t feel the same. And he shouldn’t ask this of her. 

But Oliver was a fucking bastard and he wasn’t willing to give her an out. 

That didn’t mean he didn’t feel bad about it though. The very least he could do was give Felicity what she wanted.

Oliver leaned forward, inhaling her scent, and licking a wide path from her knee to the edge of her thigh—

“God, I missed you!”

His eyes shot up and his mouth forgot it’s plan. His lips and teeth closed over the delicate skin of her inner thigh and Felicity’s hips bucked, a moan falling from her lips.

Lips that were parted and glistening. Her head had fallen back, curls escaping their careful arrangement, some clinging to her damp skin, others brushing her shoulders. Oliver couldn’t see her eyes but his heart skipped a beat and, given the circumstances, that alone could be pretty fucking dangerous.

Oliver sucked the skin he had unintentionally bruised, laving it with his tongue, and when he lifted his lips he asked, “Missed me?” He traced the edge of her panties with his tongue, brushing her thigh with his beard and making her shiver. “Or missed _this_?”

It was a stupid thing to say. To ask. An asshole question. 

But Oliver had lost control of his tongue.

Except…he ran the flat of it over her silky panties, tasting her through the wet fabric and making her cry out.

In that, Oliver had control. But his words? They no longer seemed to need his brain’s permission to be said and that could only be his ruination.

“Both,” Felicity moaned. “Both. So much.”

She couldn’t have given a better answer. Oliver hadn’t expected it. He kept expecting her to say something that tore his heart from his chest. But this…

His throat closed and he lost all coordination. His eyes again flew to her face and this time Felicity was peering right back at him, her gaze soft and vulnerable.

Eyes burning, Oliver found himself whispering more of those uninvited words. “I’m right here. Always. Right next to you.”

It could have been snarky. Angry even. Accusing. But it came out as a vow, emotion saturating every word.

Would Felicity understand? Would she want to?

Was any of this welcome?

Because Oliver was laying himself at her feet. Telling her that he was right here. All she needed to do was ask, to reach out, to give him the smallest of signs…and he would be there. In any and every way Felicity needed. That was never going to change. Ever.

Oliver had no idea if she understood or if she even wanted to, but her next words shook him to the core.

“Do you?” Her tongue traced her lips. “Miss me? Miss this?”

If her voice wasn’t so open and raw, if she wasn’t Felicity, Oliver would wonder if she were trying to hurt him. But unintentional as he was sure it was, it still sent a wave of agony rolling through him. 

Oliver had to close his eyes against the onslaught. Wounds he had finally managed to numb tore open again. Raw and burning.

But whether it was the drug or just her, Oliver couldn’t not answer. 

“Every day,” he breathed, his eyes still tightly shut. Hiding. God, Oliver hated how pathetic he sounded, but that wasn’t enough to still the words. “Every hour. Every second. I miss you. God, I miss everything about you…” He pressed his lips together and fought a sob. 

“Oliver…”

Somehow, Oliver managed to resist the plea in her voice. He couldn’t look at her. So when her hand touched his cheek he flinched, not expecting it. 

But when Felicity tried to retreat, Oliver grabbed her wrist and held her hand to his cheek, turning his face into her palm. He was weak, so weak, and greedy. He couldn’t dismiss a single touch. 

Oliver pressed a kiss to her palm and breathed her in. Felicity didn’t fight him. Didn’t pull away. 

She let Oliver use her. To hide.

Even when Felicity let out a whimper that was suspiciously close to a sob, Oliver kept his burning eyes buried in her palm.

Did he say he was brave?

He was a fucking coward.

Then more words came and Oliver didn’t even know where they came from. But he knew they were true. 

“You’re right there. Across the bunker. Everyday I get to see you. Hear you.” His voice trembled, but he couldn’t stop. “It’s like a missing limb. The best parts of me tore off when you left and now there’s a gaping hole. And it hurts. It fucking hurts.”

It took a harsh sob to pull Oliver from his daze, from his overindulgent, pathetically selfish rant. A tear trailed down Felicity’s cheek and…

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

Who the hell was he to burden her with this crap? Just when Oliver thought there was nothing left he didn’t want her to know, he found new levels of bullshit to hurt Felicity with.

Shaking his head, Oliver pleaded, “I’m sorry. Baby, please, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Didn’t mean to what? He didn’t even know. “I’m not making this better. Fuck, I never do, do I?”

Felicity’s lip trebled and she shook her head. But Oliver didn’t think it was in answer to his question. She just looked… _overwhelmed_.

“And I’m still making it worse.” When was he going to shut the fuck up? “I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve never wanted to hurt you. _Never_.”

Those words were a relief at least. Because Oliver had been worried that hurting her had been the intention of this jealous bullshit. At least now he knew that wasn’t his intent. The Truth Serum was good for something, at least.

“I know, Oliver. I know.” Felicity’s voice quivered, but knowing that was the truth too and not a simple placation almost sent Oliver into emotional overload. 

He pressed a desperate kiss to her palm. Then another. Felicity’s fingers curled over his chin and Oliver kissed each one.

Thanking her.

Begging forgiveness.

Using actions instead of the words Oliver was certain he would just end up fucking up. Again.

He kissed her wrist and Felicity ran the pads of her fingers across his face, threading them into his hair, murmuring, “ _Oliver_ …”

Just his name on her lips was a healing salve to his soul. Her fingers calmed his demons, soothed him so much more than he deserved. Oliver pressed grateful kisses to her knee, trailing them up her thigh.

But the higher Oliver got, the closer to her core, the more control slipped. The kisses got rougher, longer. Teeth scraped her delicate flesh.

With each, he stopped to sooth the tormented skin with his tongue.

Hurt and soothe.

Hurt and soothe.

Oliver couldn’t stop the first, so he begged forgiveness with the second. Felicity must be so sick of the pattern. 

No wonder she’d walked away.

When Oliver reached the edge of her panties, he kissed along the seam, swirling his tongue over the smooth satin and rough lace until her moans were continuous and incoherent. This was something he could give her at least. One thing he excelled at.

Lifting his head just enough to breathe her in, Oliver considered the best way, the fastest way, to remove that last barrier.

They were black. Her panties. Beautiful and sexy. 

For a moment he lamented that they weren’t green. Then Oliver remembered…

Felicity hadn’t chosen this delicate piece of sin with Oliver in mind. Felicity had put them on for another man.

For the detective. 

The one who fought the bad guys in the light of day. Who had nothing to hide from. Who…

Again, pain coalesced into anger. A rage that Oliver didn’t think he could control. All he could do was thank God he had been able to get them out of the ballroom and away from that man because…

Oliver would kill him.

In the state he was in, Oliver would kill anyone who dared put a hand on the woman he loved. It wouldn’t even matter if Felicity wanted it. Oliver wouldn’t be able to stop and think it through, to listen to even her. The monster—the beast within would snap him like a twig, leaving Oliver to repent later. Leaving them both to deal with the consequences.

It was a terrifying and sobering thought.

But not nearly enough to keep Oliver from taring that offending thong off Felicity’s body with one sharp tug of his teeth.

“Fuck!”

His heart was roaring so loudly, Oliver was lucky he even heard Felicity’s rough gasp. His eyes snapped up as dread started to spread.

But Felicity was staring down at him with nothing but wonder. Awe mixed with such raw and honest lust, making Oliver’s heart swell. His cock too, though he had no idea how it got bigger. 

It hurt, but that was easy to ignore when Felicity rasped, “I missed _that_.”

It shocked him. Felicity’s genuine approval of an action Oliver knew was fueled by darkness and pain. A violent impulse.

It turned him on his head. Metaphorically.

And that was what Oliver missed. More than Felicity’s taste and touch and smell. It was her ability to find something worthwhile lurking inside the worst parts of him. To twist him up and banish the darkness, if only for a few precious moments.

The anger, the pain snuffed out, banished by her glow. She was here with him now, wasn’t she? 

Felicity’s legs were spread for _him_. 

She licked her lips imagining _Oliver’s_ taste. 

She whimpered anticipating _his_ touch.

It was enough. 

For now. 

The emotional boomerang left Oliver huffing out a laugh, delirious. Was it any wonder that he needed her?

Too bad all Oliver did was drain Felicity dry.

But when he looked into her face, she didn’t look drained. Felicity looked alive. 

Flushed. Excited. Aroused. 

Pleasure radiated from her.

Oliver could give her that. He could give her the most intense Goddamn orgasm any woman had ever been blessed with. He could worship her like no one else.

Because he did. _Worship her_. No one else could possibly feel as strongly as Oliver did. It just wasn’t possible. 

His tongue snuck out and he teased her, tasting just the edge of her folds, because if he wanted to make this the best Felicity had ever had, Oliver was going to have to be patient, to build sensation on top of sensation.

Even the tiny touch was enough to make Felicity tremble. And moan.

It was overwhelming.

“You miss me ruining your underwear?” Oliver found himself joking, though he didn’t know why. It was a piss poor attempt. Though the self-deprecating kind of humor was all he had at the moment.

And he needed to do something or the emotional tension building inside him was going to shatter him.

Felicity didn’t laugh at the joke. Not even the slightest chuckle. In fact, she seemed to be taking Oliver’s question very seriously.

“I miss…I miss…”

Oliver averted his eyes. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have asked. Now he was left trembling, terrified of whatever way Felicity was going to end that sentence. 

So he focused on the feast in front of him, the spread thighs and moist pink folds. Maybe if he lost himself in them, he could make her forget what she was going to say. He’d started this but he was pretty sure it would be the end of him. 

His lips had just started to descend, his tongue a hairs breath from her center when he heard, “I miss your strength.”

Oliver froze. Not a millimeter from his goal.

But he swallowed a sob and pressed on, not sure if he was thanking her or trying to avoid all the feelings Felicity’s words evoked. 

He didn’t understand it, not really. Sure, Oliver got how physical strength could be a turn on, but these hands had destroyed far more than a black lace thong.

Oliver just hoped it wouldn’t destroy her.

With one firm stroke of his tongue, Oliver tasted the entire length of Felicity’s cunt. Slow and deep. Her flavor…it made his head swim and her moans…

They set him on fire.

But he held that at bay. Instead, Oliver traced every crevasse, relearned every mystery, inside and out, before finding Felicity’s clit and rediscovering that as well, testing the weight, the texture, the size. So familiar and yet there was always a new revelation.

Oliver rolled it over his tongue until Felicity was babbling incoherently. The words were nothing he could make sense of, but he loved the sound of her voice. Loud or soft. Intelligible or not. 

As long as Felicity kept talking to him, he was happy.

Oliver’s tongue left her clit to plunge deep. To relearn that hidden flesh with the same voracity. He wiggled his tongue and soothed the spasms in Felicity’s thighs with his thumbs, pressing closer, as close as he could get, his face completely buried in her cunt.

He could barely breathe and it was so fucking wonderful.

This was how Oliver wanted to die. To the sounds of Felicity’s screams and the sharp sting of her nails digging into his scalp as she wrenched him ever closer.

Fuck or die.

Maybe Oliver would die here.

He wouldn’t mind. Not at all.

As long as Felicity lived on.

But then something pushed through the rush in Oliver’s ears and the incoherent mutterings, through his drug-addled, oxygen-deprived, Felicity-intoxicated bliss.

“Not the same…not the same…”

A small tickle, the first edge of panic had Oliver rearing back and dragging in a lung full of air, trying to get a brain cell or two functioning.

Felicity’s, “No, no, no, don’t stop…don’t stop…” was reassuring enough to keep Oliver going, so he pressed a kiss to her folds and he slid two fingers inside her.

The moan Felicity breathed out was one of pure joy and Oliver found himself smiling against her. He pressed a slow kiss—with plenty of tongue—against her clit.

“ _God_! Not fair. _So_ not fair.”

Oliver wished he could let it go. Wished he could brush off her words and concentrate on her pleasure, but not knowing what was going on in that gorgeous mind of hers was threatening to drive him insane. “What’s not fair, baby?”

The question puffed against her clit and Felicity’s hips bucked. _That_ probably wasn’t fair, he might be stacking the deck, but she couldn’t lie and the answer to these questions were either going to save him or finish Oliver off. 

“What’s not the same?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Oliver’s throat closed in and his eyes zeroed in on her thigh. Unlike her facial expressions, her creamy skin couldn’t break his heart. He left kisses there, not to influence her, he knew the gas wouldn’t allow for that, but to…to…

Hide.

God, he wanted to hide.

“Nothing…nothing’s the same,” Felicity gasped, a desperate edge to her voice and Oliver didn’t know how to interpret…any of it.

When she didn’t elaborate, Oliver snuck a look. He watched Felicity lick her lips before her eyes briefly jerked to his and she begged, “ _Please_. Don’t stop.”

That wasn’t something Oliver would _ever_ be able to say no to. He plunged his fingers in and drew them out, apologizing by ghosting his thumb over her clit. He was rewarded with a long, relieved groan of pleasure and a dopey smile as Felicity slumped back on her hands.

Maybe Oliver wasn’t going to get his answers after all. He couldn’t bring himself to ask again. He might even be relieved if he wasn’t so damn prone to thinking the worst. 

Which meant thinking that this wasn’t as good as it once was, that it wasn’t the same.

Or even not as good as it was with… _him_. The fucking _detective_.

But then Felicity started babbling. 

God, how Oliver loved her babbling.

“It’s not fair how good you are at this.”

Oliver’s forehead fell to her thigh. He sucked in a relieved breath and squeezed his eyes shut against the burn. _Thank God_.

“It’s not fair…it’s…” Felicity’s voice caught on a pleasured groan as Oliver redoubled his efforts to make sure each stroke of his fingers gave her maximum gratification. “It’s not fair how long and thick and _talented_ your fingers are.”

Oliver barely managed to muffle a triumphant laugh against her skin. _Ha_! He knew that damnable detective had small hands.

“It’s not fair how perfect your callouses feel on me. _In_ me.”

Possessive pride washed over him and Oliver rewarded Felicity by twisting his fingers and dragging the calloused pads over the spongy flesh on the front of her walls. 

Felicity let out a long keening moan and Oliver nuzzled her thigh, dragging his lips over it, again and again. 

It wasn’t fair how much he loved her. How much power she held over him. It wasn’t. 

“How everything about you is perfect,” Felicity continued with a sob and her words were starting to lose sense but they still brought tears to Oliver’s eyes. “Rough and gentle at the same time. How is that even possible?” She laughed, a hysterical sound, and answered her own question, “It’s not. It’s not possible. Not for anyone on earth but you. Just you. _God_ , Oliver.”

Okay, now Oliver was starting to worry he was hallucinating this. Surely, that was the only way he could be hearing things this… _wonderful_.

His eyes flew back to her face to gage her eyes, but they were closed, her head back, words falling effortlessly from her lips. 

“It’s not fair. It should be too much but it never is,” Felicity breathed and Oliver added another finger, watching her stretch her neck and whine. Jesus, she was so fucking beautiful. “The callouses, the scruff. The girth. Your strength. You throw me around like I way nothing and it never hurts. Not the tiniest bit. How does that work? How do you do it? How is it always _exactly_ what I need?”

Because he was made for her. 

Born for her.

The words formed in Oliver’s mind and they would have come out if his throat was even close to being capable of forming sound. He was having difficulty breathing. Looking at her face was even too much. Instead, he watched his fingers working her, his thumb rhythmically stroking her clit. It was a damn good thing it required so little thought.

“Perfect,” Felicity rasped. “That’s the most unfair part. How…Oliver, how?”

Oliver didn’t have an answer. Wasn’t even sure of the question. Except…

That he loved her. With every fiber of his being. Oliver loved her. 

The words tumbled out but his tongue had already found a way to battle his thumb for her clit and the words were an incomprehensible rumble against her skin.

The entire effect made Felicity jerk and she let out a loud scream.

It just proved how much better Oliver was at action than at words. His thumb lost the fight and pressed away, stroking up her belly, as his tongue took full possession of her clit, massaging it and drawing out another, even louder scream. 

Maybe Felicity had finally lost coherency. It might even be a relief. Oliver’s fishing for reassurance had caught him so much more than he had ever hoped for and he was on overload, couldn’t take it all in.

But Felicity wasn’t done. 

“Even your tongue, your _tongue_ is fucking gifted and it _isn’t fair_.” Felicity seemed to have a very different definition of fair than Oliver did. “You know that most people don’t have as much coordination in their whole bodies as you have in your G _oddamn_ tongue.” 

_That_ Oliver took as a challenge.

And Felicity must have realized, because she let out a breathless laugh, before rasping, “See and that’s the most unfair part of all. It will never be the same. Never be half as good. You’ve ruined me.” 

Her next laugh ended in a sob and it broke Oliver’s heart.

It broke _him_.

Oliver had ruined her. Hadn’t he always known he would.

“No one else will ever be enough.”

That last tearful confession forced a sob from Oliver’s throat, though he never lifted his lips from her flesh. He thought he lost some of that lauded coordination though.

God, he could _feel_ Felicity’s pain. Mixed with Oliver’s own. Side by side with a pleasure so exquisite…

Felicity had ruined him too. Scarred him. Destroyed him.

Had Oliver destroyed her?

Was it too late to save her? Either of them?

Oliver didn’t know the answer to any of those questions, but it was time to end this.

He closed his lips over Felicity’s clit and started to suckle. Long, deep, and hard. Her head fell back as she let out a ragged scream that left Oliver’s ears ringing.

But screams were good. Better than words.

Oliver didn’t deserve these words. These particular secrets. Felicity was right. It wasn’t fair. _He_ hadn’t been fair. He should never have asked those questions.

These were words that should have been freely given. 

Just as her body should be.

They were gifts. Not something to take. 

That he had taken them, expecting something else entirely, out of his own reckless self-destructive tendencies didn’t make it any better. He’d give them back if he could.

But he couldn’t. All Oliver could do was cherish them. Her. 

And give her pleasure beyond anything she had ever experienced.

A whole hell of a lot better than that scrawny little detective.

That was something Oliver didn’t deserve to know. 

It didn’t keep the knowledge from filling him with elation. With pride. 

He tried to focus on Felicity. That, at least, wasn’t difficult. 

The confessions had stopped, the words hadn’t. Only now they were a mix of curses and endearments. And Oliver’s name.

Over and over. 

And the way Felicity said it…

His name was both an endearment and a curse.

Oliver lead her to the edge. Using every skill he had ever learned, all his knowledge of _her_ to bring Felicity to the highest sharpest edge he could. Until her words ceased to be words. Then he shoved her over.

And watched her fall.

Knowing there was nothing more exquisite.

Then Oliver caught her. He gentled Felicity’s landing with light strokes of his fingers, with soft breaths against her sensitized flesh. Never letting her feel the need to shove him away because it was too much.

Until she collapsed back onto the hard, mahogany desk, sucking in great gasps of air, her legs going limp against his shoulders.

Oliver sat back and…

It hurt.

His erection hurt so fucking bad that he couldn’t see straight. 

Oliver had never understood the phrase ‘so hard it hurt’. He assumed it was a ridiculous exaggeration. Or maybe male propaganda to make women feel bad for them. Being hard didn’t hurt. It felt good. It could be irritating under the wrong circumstances, but it was never painful.

Until now.

Maybe it would kill him.

Maybe it would cause irrevocable damage to his dick and he would never be able to get hard again.

Even if it did, it didn’t matter.

Oliver couldn’t do this.

He’d taken enough from her.

He loved Felicity more than life, more than _anything_ , and yet all Oliver did was take.

That wasn’t what love was. Love was _giving_. Not taking. When was he going to get that through his damn fool head?

Oliver pushed himself back from the desk, trying to control his breathing, his heart rate. But he didn’t have anything close to his usual control. Or coordination. 

He stumbled as he heaved himself to his feet, ran a hand over his face, tugged at the short strands of his hair, hoping the pain might clear the fog that was quickly rolling in, threatening to shut down his brain completely.

Maybe cold water?

Oliver scanned the room. The dim lights and…his office. They were in his office. Locked in.

Right. 

If they left, they risked being dosed with more of the gas…

No.

Nope. Didn’t want that.

So, no cold shower then. Oliver had a bathroom though. Some cold water on his face could…

“Oliver?”

He spun. And the world _kept_ spinning. Oliver braced himself and kept blinking until his eyes were able to settle on Felicity. 

She was sitting on the edge of Oliver’s desk, her skirt around her waist, her cheeks flushed and…

God, the hours Oliver had spent trying _not_ to imagine Felicity on his desk with this exact same look on her face, both satisfied and wanting more.

Her legs were only slightly parted now. Oliver could only see a peek… _Jesus_ , her thighs were fucking _glistening_ in the light from the floor lamps.

He wanted her. He always did but this was with an intensity that was staggering.

Oliver dug his short nails into his scalp and took a step away. 

Felicity tilted her head, a soft smile on her lips. “Oliver? What are you doing?”

“I…uh…” It was a good question. One Oliver would desperately like the answer to. “I’m trying to think. It’s really, really hard to _think_.”

The smile Felicity gave him was slow and sensual and so fucking sexy. Unintentionally so. Oliver knew that because she was also looking at him like he was a cute puppy she’d found in the dumpster.

“I’m pretty sure that’s because you are over there,” Felicity pointed to him, an irresistible pout on her lips. “When you should be _here_.”

Felicity pointed to herself and, fuck, Oliver wanted to obey. Then that same finger dragged over her skin, across her chest…

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

All Oliver wanted to do was drop to his knees and crawl to her. Do whatever Felicity asked. To beg for the smallest touch.

The painful throb between his legs echoed in his ears.

He never wanted anything so badly as he wanted to go to Felicity right then. But that wasn’t the answer.

“Are you sure that’s not the answer?” Felicity rasped and when had she become a fucking siren and…?

Oh shit.

“I said that out loud?” Oliver whimpered and Felicity’s smirk was the only answer he needed. “Christ, now _I’m_ speaking my thoughts out loud?”

That was so so bad.

Felicity’s grin widened and she swung her feet. “Yup,” she popped the ‘p’ and it was so adorably _her_ , it just about killed him.

“I’m so fucked.”

“That’s the idea,” Felicity threw back with a husky giggle.

“Can giggles be husky? Does that make sense?”

Felicity laughed out loud and Oliver slammed his mouth closed. Putting all his effort into tensing his jaw, he stepped back.

“Oliver, you’re just a little mixed up. The drug has you confused. Come here and let me help you.” Felicity beckoned him with a finger. “Trust me, I feel _so much_ better.”

She sounded better. So much clearer than Oliver felt. More rational.

“Good. That’s good. You feeling better. Being better.” Oliver listened to himself. He was going downhill fast. “Fuck or die. Right? Now you can’t die.” God, he really sounded deranged. He needed to stop talking. “You’re safe. That’s good. So I’ll just go to the bathroom and stick my head under the water and then—”

“Oliver!”

He froze. 

Then turned slowly to look at Felicity. He hadn’t even realized that he’d paced away from her.

“ _Enough_!” And that was Felicity’s loud voice. It held Oliver captive. He watched as if through a wall of water as she hopped off the desk. “I see where this is going and you can stop right _there_!”

It was official, Oliver was done for. And he didn’t even know what that meant.

All he could do was watch the love of his life prowl toward him and mutter, “Yup. Uh huh. I’m so _so_ fucked.”


	5. Martyrdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 5: Martyrdom**

Felicity felt good. 

Insanely. Sinfully. Incredibly _good_.

It was, of course, because of the unnaturally perfect orgasm Oliver had just given her. 

It was tempting to give at least some of the credit to the drug—the Sex Pollen—but that same drug made Felicity frustratingly honest with herself and she knew that sex with Oliver had always been _this_ good.

Well, maybe not _every_ single time they’d had sex. They’d had _a lot_ of sex. Normal couple sex. Which often meant sex that wasn’t always mind-blowing. But it had been mind-blowing often enough.

Still was. And they hadn’t even gotten to full-on hard-core sex yet. 

Mind- _blowing_. 

Nothing else could ever compare to being with Oliver Queen.

A fact that Felicity had just confessed. In exquisite detail. 

She supposed she could hope the brain fog would keep Oliver from remembering the part where she told him all the ways he was the best lover she’d ever had, how he’d ruined her for other men. But Felicity wasn’t holding her breath. 

Besides, if she was being honest with herself (and it seemed she had no choice but to be), Felicity had to admit even _that_ felt good. 

The verbal incontinence. Not having to measure every word, over thinking the ramifications of each one. Holding back. Holding everything in.

Letting every thing she thought and felt fall from her tongue unfiltered…it felt amazing. Surprisingly so. Though Felicity suspected it was in no small part due to Oliver’s incredibly heartfelt (and pained) confession of how much he’d missed her. 

Felicity didn’t think she would have let half as much out if it hadn’t been for the things Oliver had said, drug or no drug.

Or, at least, she’d be feeling a hell of a lot more self-conscious. Instead of…

Free.

Felicity felt _free_.

How long had it been since she’d felt this way? Even for a moment?

Tomorrow…who knew how Felicity would feel tomorrow, but for the moment, she just stretched and hummed and…

Wondered where Oliver had gotten to. Why wasn’t he touching her? Why wasn’t he _inside_ her?

Dear God, Felicity wanted him inside her. Her spectacular orgasm hadn’t diminished that in the slightest. The fog had cleared. The desperate edge was less sharp, less painful. But the ache between her legs, the way her cunt clenched and spasmed, bemoaning its emptiness—that was no less intense. 

“Oliver?” Felicity called, pushing herself up with more difficulty than she would’ve liked. This would be so much easier if he were here to help her. Also, the desk wasn’t quite as comfortable as it had felt when he was touching her. 

But all Felicity got in response was incomprehensible mutters. 

Felicity heaved herself up and scooted to the edge of the desk, blinking to clear her eyes. Concern was a great motivator.

Oliver was pacing, pulling on his hair and muttering to himself, looking utterly deranged.

It was a good look on him.

Damn man looked gorgeous doing anything. Talk about unfair.

“Oliver, what are you doing?” And more importantly, why was he doing it over there?

Then Oliver started to babble and, damn, now Felicity understood why he found it so fricken cute. Though Felicity was pretty sure she was more intelligible than _this_. Poor boy. 

Good thing Felicity had the cure. And no medicine had ever tasted better. 

All Oliver had to do was come back here and _take it_.

Repeatedly, if Felicity had her preference. 

She knew he wanted to. And not just because of the obscenely large tent in his trousers. 

Oliver was really over-dressed. 

Both of them were, but especially Oliver. 

But beyond the physical evidence, Felicity could see the _want_ in his eyes. The honest, naked need. The worshipful expression that she had to admit she missed and knowing how completely unfeigned it was…made it even more intoxicating.

Also, there was the way Oliver had lost all control over his speech and was saying everything he thought. Including his desire to crawl to her. Beg her.

When he realized what he was doing, Oliver breathed, “I’m so fucked.”

Yup, Felicity knew the feeling. Tomorrow there would likely be tears. Tears and a lot of really difficult decisions to make. Because the drug they’d breathed in wasn’t the one she was addicted to and having another taste of Oliver…

But Felicity had already decided to deal with tomorrow…well, _tomorrow_. There was no point fighting this any more. They’d already gone to far. Tonight would change things.

But again tomorrows problem, so Felicity threw back a flirty, “That’s the idea.”

That was when Oliver lost the last of his filter and it was glorious.

Until it wasn’t.

Felicity should have known if Oliver talked long enough he was going to say something she didn’t like. And was it really surprising that the big idiot decided the best way to deal with the situation was to throw himself on his damn sword?

She didn’t know what infuriated her more…

Actually, Felicity knew _exactly_ what infuriated her the most. It was Oliver’s complete disregard for his own health and well-being. His willingness to die. With absolutely no regard for those he left behind.

“Oliver!” Felicity interrupted the constant flow of (increasingly) idiotic words with a loud voice she knew would get Oliver’s attention.

It did.

Oliver froze, slowly turning and staring at her, doing an amazing imitation of a deer in headlights.

It was adorable and pulled on every one of Felicity’s heartstrings. But she had learned long ago, if she let things like that influence her she was sunk.

“Enough!” Felicity caught Oliver’s wide eyes and held them as she hopped off the desk, watched as he gulped. Good. “I see where this is going and you can stop right _there_.”

“Yup. Uh huh. I’m so _so_ fucked.”

He had a very un-Oliver look in his eye. He looked like…prey.

Felicity took a step forward. Oliver seemed to be holding his breath. He stood utterly, painfully still.

Guess, that made her the predator.

Huh. It wasn’t something she’d given much thought to before, but Felicity kinda liked it.

She took another step forward, measured, swinging her hips, one very high-heeled foot in front of the other. 

Oliver swallowed. His nostrils flared.

Was there anything quite like prey that wanted to be caught?

And Felicity wanted to catch him. She wanted to…

Eat. Him. Up. 

“Don’t need to, ‘Elicity. Don—”

Just as soon as she set this damn fool straight.

“Uh uh.” Felicity held up her hand, then pressed her fingers to her thumb, miming that she expected Oliver to _shut it_. “My turn.”

Oliver’s open mouth slammed closed (thank you) and his eyes widened even further. 

Felicity could get use to this.

“I’m so over this throw yourself on your sword crap. There will be no martyrs here, mister. You understand me?”

He didn’t look like he did, but to be fair Felicity had chosen that exact moment to reach behind her and pull down the zipper on the back of her dress. So, all things considered, it was understandable that Oliver’s focus was on the way she shrugged her shoulders and sent the dress slithering to her feet.

His response was something like, “Guhhgh.”

Felicity fought a grin (but not very hard) and stepped out of her dress. “What was that?”

Oliver’s mouth fell open but nothing close to intelligible emerged.

Picking up the dress with her toe, Felicity flung it away. Given the way Oliver’s eyes were roaming her legs she felt pretty good about her decision to keep her shoes on. The black bra was going to have to go eventually but, hey, no need to rush things.

Especially when Oliver was still so very dressed (despite how translucent his sweat soaked shirt was becoming in the glow of the lamps).

“I’m not sure you do, my—” Felicity just barely kept herself from saying ‘my love,’ hastily replacing it with, “Oliver.”

My Oliver.

Yeah, _that_ was better.

Oliver’s eyes flew to hers and there was a different sort of desperation in them this time.

It felt like Felicity should regret that little slip. For Oliver’s sake if not her own. Despite everything, she’d never had the desire to hurt him. She didn’t want to give him false hope.

Was it false hope?

Felicity had no idea any more.

She waited for regret to settle in. Worry. Fear. None did. 

So she kept going, slow steps and silky smooth words. “Actually, I’m not sure you’re _up_ ,” Felicity’s eyes drifted to the pornographic tent in Oliver’s pants and was gratified to see it move, “to that discussion right now.”

No one could claim _that_ innuendo was accidental.

Catching Oliver’s eyes, Felicity gave him the slightest of smiles and took that last step into his personal space, her hand falling onto his chest.

His heart was pounding, way faster than any drum. Damn fool man was going to give himself a heart attack.

That realization reinvigorated Felicity’s righteous indignation. And her determination.

“You’re over-dressed,” Felicity stated in an impressively firm tone and, wow, had her voice ever gone that low before? She wondered if the drug had a hand in that.

“Is that…” Oliver gulped. “Is that what we’re discussing?”

Felicity was pretty sure Oliver’s voice had never gone that _high_ before.

“Oh,” Felicity used both hands to grab Oliver’s tie and started to loosen it, “ _that_ is not up for discussion.” 

She paused when the tie was undone. Best to leave it hanging there. Just in case she needed it as a tether.

“Shouldn’t we, uh, try to fight this?” the idiot babbled as Felicity started in on his buckle. 

Her response was to yank the belt from his pants with a flourish, snapping it for affect and enjoying the way Oliver startled and blinked, still doing that cute Bambi routine. 

Felicity was suddenly accosted with a vision of whipping Oliver’s very naked and so very well formed ass with this same belt. 

It wasn’t an unpleasant image. In fact, it triggered a flash of arousal and a gushing between her thighs. It wasn’t that Felicity wanted to hurt him but…no one could deny Oliver had been a _bad boy_.

Felicity looked into his eyes and drew out his name as she unbuttoned his trousers, “ _Ol-i-verrr_ , it might be best if you leave the thinking to me. At least until we take care of _this_.” She trailed two slow fingers over the ridge that was starting to radiate heat through the too many layers of clothing.

A low groan rumbled from Oliver and Felicity’s fingers chased the sound up his belly and over his chest, to his thrown back neck.

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ …”

Trying to work the top button of his shirt was getting harder and harder. His perspiration damp neck and sexy-as-hell scruff were a little distracting. 

“Yes, Oliver?”

It would help if her hands weren’t starting to tremble. And if Oliver didn’t smell so fraking good. Then his eyes pried themselves open and the promise in them…

Felicity wondered if she could come from that alone.

When Oliver didn’t answer, Felicity prompted, “You were saying?” Couldn’t have him thinking she was starting to lose control too.

Even if she was. 

_Especially_ if she was.

Oliver’s only reply was an, “Ummm…” and Feicity didn’t know if it was a confused place holding sound or just an aroused hum. 

Either way his Adam’s apple bobbed and she had the irresistible urge to bite it.

Actually, that was an excellent idea.

Bouncing up to her toes, Felicity nipped at the distinctly masculine flesh. And the next sound…that was _definitely_ a moan. 

Oliver’s head fell back completely this time and the way he arched into her, presenting his neck, Felicity was pretty sure this was what surrender looked like.

Another fantastic look on him.

His muscles started to uncoil and Oliver finally said something coherent, “Letting you do the thinking is generally the best plan.”

Felicity grinned (despite the fact that she’d made no progress with the damn button). “I do believe that is the smartest thing you’ve said all night.”

It was way too good a line to let Oliver mess up by arguing and if she wanted to keep control of the situation (and she did. Oh, she did) then she needed to take action.

Felicity gave up her battle with those stupid tiny buttons and fisted the sides of Oliver’s shirt, yanking at it with all her (not completely insubstantial) strength. 

Still, Felicity was rather surprised when buttons went flying. She didn’t quite get the entire thing open but it revealed a nice portion of Oliver’s well-muscled chest. 

Frak, she’d missed that chest. Since the break-up, he always worked out with his shirt on. 

Oliver choked. “Holy fuck…”

Felicity’s eyes jerked to his. Crap. Maybe she shouldn’t have—

“I get it now,” Oliver breathed, “that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

The tiny niggle of insecurity disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Chased away by laughter as Felicity balled up the shirt again and tore the rest open. 

Seriously, these whimpers and groans might just kill her.

Keeping her grip on his now ruined shirt, Felicity yanked Oliver toward her, pulling him off balance which was a rare treat in of itself.

“See,” Felicity turned Oliver with a sharp jerk of his shirt, “how much better things go when you follow my lead?”

Before Oliver had a chance to answer, Felicity gave a hard shove, sending him stumbling back into his very dignified mayoral chair and making it roll backward until it hit the cabinet behind him with a thump. 

Felicity took a moment to enjoy the rare sight of defenseless Oliver. She raked her gaze over him. Yum.

Staring at her with wide-eyes, Oliver slumped back in his chair, his tie and shirt flapping open, framing his scarred and muscle-defined chest, the light catching on the film of sweat and giving it a golden glow. His hair was sticking up in every direction, his lips wet and swollen, his cheeks flushed. His pants were wide open and riding low on those beautifully trim hips, held up only by his suspenders.

And that very impressive cock, the one that might be as intimidating as the man himself if Felicity didn’t know them both so well, it was about to burst free of Oliver’s boxer briefs. The head peaking free. Reaching toward her.

Begging.

Felicity saw no reason to rush after him. She was pretty sure Oliver was enjoying her slow, hip swinging stride and she was certainly enjoying being the more coordinated one for once.

“Imagine the things we could do if you followed my lead more often,” Felicity murmured, drawing the words out as she leaned over him and lifted the waistband of those boxer briefs, licking her lips in anticipation as Oliver’s abs rippled.

Making sure to touch as little of him as possible, Felicity freed the poor cock from its cotton prison. Then, holding Oliver’s eyes, she watched desperation flare as she licked a path down her own palm and curled her hand around him. 

_God_. 

Warm velvet over hot steal. Had it really been that long or was Oliver even more impressive than usual? 

Another thing that wasn’t fair.

Oliver’s breath hissed, relief and pain warring for dominance. His entire body shuddered.

Felicity shook her head. “You really did push yourself to the brink, didn’t you?” 

Trying not to think about what might have happened if the idiot had been allowed to see his martyr routine to its conclusion, Felicity squeezed. Not hard. Just a firm grip before she slid her hand up to the head, twisting, listening to Oliver’s breath catch, still deciding if she wanted to taste him or move straight to the main course—

A strangled cry erupted from Oliver’s lips and his hips jumped, his muscles coiling and…Felicity’s hand was covered with come.

Felicity’s eyes widened and flew to Oliver’s face. His eyes were closed and his head was back, resting against the high-backed chair as he struggled to catch his breath, covered with sweat and completely wrecked.

Well, _that_ was unexpected. 

But maybe it shouldn’t have been.

“The thing about Fuck or Die, Oliver…you’re not supposed to _choose to die_.” It came out angrier than Felicity intended. Tears burned her eyes.

He could have _died_.

And it made her want to kill him. 

“Sorry.” It was a soft murmur, his eyes still closed, and Felicity didn’t know if Oliver was apologizing for his backwards ass thinking or his…premature ejaculation.

Felicity sure as hell hoped it was the first. 

Considering everything Felicity couldn’t even call it ‘premature.’ Plus, it didn’t seem his little… _release_ would keep her from her next one. 

Oliver was still hard. So fucking hard.

“That’s never happened before,” Oliver whispered and Felicity frowned. _That’s_ what he was worried about?

“Hmmm.” She ran her hand down his erection and Oliver groaned. Yup, still ready to go. “You’ve never chosen death over sex before.” 

Felicity’s hand fell away. He didn’t deserve it.

Oliver’s eye snapped open. “I wasn’t—” His eyes widened and it looked like he stopped breathing. “ _Fuuuck_ …”

Only then did Felicity realize she was licking her hand clean. The naked lust and admiration in his gaze did a lot to soothe any embarrassment she might feel at being caught in the thoughtless act. It didn’t hurt her irritation either. 

“What?” Felicity shrugged, continuing to clean her fingers. “It’s not like there’s an abundance of warm wash cloths. Wouldn’t want to get your fancy mayoral clothes all messy.”

The look Oliver gave her was dazed and disbelieving. “You just tore all the buttons off my ‘fancy mayoral’ shirt.”

“Good point.” Felicity looked over her hand, considering. There wasn’t much left. Whatever. She gave it one last lick and used Oliver’s shirt to wipe off what probably amounted to saliva and not much else.

“Am I hallucinating?”

A quick glance at Oliver’s face showed her it was a genuine question. Though it probably had to be given the circumstances. But it was his ‘this is too good to be true’ expression that had Felicity wrapping her hands around his suspenders and yanking his lips to hers. 

Felicity allowed herself a brief moment to attack his lips, not giving Oliver time to kiss her back before she sucked his lower lip between hers, ending it with a hard nip just shy of breaking skin.

When she pulled back, she straightened and Oliver swayed toward her, his lips reaching for hers. Felicity pushed him back into the chair and grinned. “Does _that_ feel like a hallucination?”

His head shake was slow, like Oliver couldn’t bear to take his eyes off of her for a second. “I never had a full-sensory hallucination before.”

Drawn by the look in Oliver’s eyes (and the throbbing between her legs), Felicity climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs. “How many sensations do your hallucinations usually have?”

One side of Oliver’s lips quirked up and Felicity watched the intelligence slowly return to his eyes. “Generally? Just sight and sound.” 

Only Oliver would have a large and varied enough experience with hallucinations to make this conversation possible.

Felicity’s hands came to rest low on his abdomen and started a slow trek upwards, noting with satisfaction that his heart-rate had returned to a more reasonable pace post-orgasm. “Not touch?”

Another slow head shake. Still not breaking eye contact. “Nope.”

“Or,” Felicity leaned forward until their lips were just shy of touching, “Taste?” She licked Oliver’s lips, pulling back just as they fell open.

“No,” Oliver breathed. “Nor smell.” He leaned in and ran his nose over her cheek, inhaling and humming his approval. “Well, nothing that smelled this good. Now the occasional smell of explosives after a nightmare…”

Felicity drew back at the sudden seriousness of his tone and dragged her eyes over Oliver’s features. 

The fog had lifted. 

Felicity braced herself. Oliver returning to his right mind could (ironically) mean a lot more stupidity to deal with.

His eyes were solemn when he told her, “I wasn’t choosing death over sex with you, Felicity.”

“Then what were you choosing death _over_ , Oliver?” she threw back, derision sneaking into her tone.

Oliver’s eyes flashed and Felicity had trouble interpreting it. Anger, maybe? Passion or…?

“Losing you,” Oliver confessed, proving once again Truth Serum was so much more dangerous than Sex Pollen. “Hurting you.”

Felicity’s mouth fell open. It was so unexpected. So sweet. So _stupid_.

“I’d rather be hurt than you _die_ ,” Felicity found herself hissing back and, wow, that anger crept up on her. 

Oliver’s lips thinned and he shook his head. “Felicity—”

“Because you dying would pretty much cause me the worst _hurt_ imaginable.” Felicity’s righteous indignation was ruined when her voice broke at the end.

Damn Truth Serum.

Oliver’s breath caught, a look of adoration and… _hope_ bathing his features. 

Damn Oliver _and_ the Truth Serum. 

And damn herself.

Closing her eyes, Felicity tried for a deep centering breath. She silently counted to ten. They needed to have a very serious discussion before the lust overtook them again and the fog rolled back in.

When Felicity opened her eyes again, she squared her shoulders and shifted in his lap. Might as well get comfortable. This could take awhile. 

Then she announced, “I think it’s time for that martyrdom discussion.”

Fear flashed in Oliver’s eyes.

Good. 

He _should_ be afraid.

Still Oliver managed a steady, “Okay.” No one could argue that he didn’t have more than his fair share of courage.

“Do you know what a martyr is, Oliver?”

His brow furrowed. Oliver thought this was a test. And it was. Though certainly not of his intelligence. 

“Someone who sacrifices themselves for others?” Oliver framed it as a question, then waited for the twist. 

“Exactly.” Felicity nodded with satisfaction.

But she was just getting started. This was a lesson long overdue.

“What I don’t understand is why that’s a bad thing,” Oliver added and he really should have stopped while he was ahead. He was digging a bigger and bigger hole for himself.

Felicity narrowed her eyes at him. Things were becoming so very clear. If he couldn’t tell anything but the full truth than he actually believed that. Felt that martyrdom was a valid life choice. No, that it was a goal.

Groaning, Felicity shook her head. “ _That_ is an even bigger problem.”

Still, Oliver’s conviction didn’t waver. “Felicity, that’s what you’re supposed to do when you love someone.”

It just got better and better. Nothing like a smart man stubbornly wed to a _stupid_ idea.

“There’s a difference between putting someone’s needs before your own and throwing yourself on the bloody sword at every opportunity,” Felicity spat back. There were so many things wrong with his thinking that she didn’t even know where to start. 

“I don—” The words died in Oliver’s mouth a second before a look of panic clouded his features.

“Ha!” Felicity couldn’t help but crow when his body wouldn’t allow him to tell the lie. “Even your subconscious knows I’m right!”

Oliver’s annoyed scowl somehow made it even better. “Not always. Self-sacrifice isn’t _always_ my first play…” he puttered off there at the end with a wrinkled nose and a frustrated pout. 

This was definitely the upside of this Truth Serum stuff. Arguing was a lot more efficient.

Stubborn defiance flashed in his eyes and Oliver defended, “I try to find other alternatives.” Felicity scoffed. “You make it sound like it’s this horrible thing. I’m trying to _protect_ you—”

“And dying in the process?” Felicity snapped back. It just made her so mad. “That’s worth it?”

“Yes!” Oliver yelled and Felicity’s heart felt like lead.

Closing her eyes, she fought the burn. Maybe starting this conversation hadn’t been a great idea. Maybe Felicity didn’t want to know all the secrets locked in Oliver’s head. Maybe she couldn’t take it.

“This isn’t Joan of Arc. We’re not in the age of chivalry. Love…relationships aren’t based on sacrifice,” Felicity whispered fiercely, struggling for some way to get through to him. Because if she couldn’t…she really didn’t know.

“Then what are they based on?” Oliver’s face was contorted, as if he was about to cry. “ _Tell me_ , Felicity. Because clearly I don’t get it. I used to be a selfish prick. All I did was hurt the people I cared about. I’ve been trying to do better, _be_ better, but obviously its not working. So, tell me, _how_ am I supposed to love y—someone.”

Emotion threatened to overwhelm her. Felicity’s eyes swelled and her chest squeezed. Anger drained away.

Oh Oliver. Her poor damaged man. He really was trying.

“By _trusting_ them,” Felicity told him. The anger was gone but her words were just as passionate. Every time he showed her the good heart he had underneath it all, her need to get through to him doubled. “By respecting them. By treating them like an equal.”

Oliver pressed his lips together until they turned white around the edges, his nostrils flaring.

He wanted to say something…or rather he _didn’t_ want to say something. And the Truth Serum had other plans.

Felicity was almost naked on his lap, Oliver’s erection pressed to her ass, a strong-as-frak aphrodisiac pumped through their systems, but right then…all she wanted was to know what was locked behind those lips.

Running her thumb over the corner of his mouth, Felicity softened her voice as she said, “Say it, Oliver. Don’t hold back now. What would be the point?”

His face turned red, but finally Oliver burst out, “You’re not my equal,” and Felicity’s breath hissed. “You’re better. _So much_ better.” His eyes welled with tears and…

This was how Oliver Queen broke her heart.

How was she to even cope with _that_?

Felicity cupped Oliver’s face, wiping his tears away with her thumbs. “Oh baby,” the endearment just wouldn’t stay buried, “that’s half the problem.”

Oliver let out a moan of frustration. Felicity could tell he felt like he couldn’t say anything right. She pressed her thumbs to his lips to keep him from trying before she was done.

“Because that is _not_ true. You aren’t _worse_. You aren’t _less_ important.”

Her name was muffled behind her thumbs and Felicity felt Oliver’s lips tremble.

“Maybe if you understood how important you are, you’d realize how your sacrifices hurt the people you love. Because they _love you_ _too_.”

Oliver’s eyes closed and a tear escaped as he pressed a kiss to Felicity’s fingers. Her own tears tumbled over as she traced those unfairly full lips, rubbing the salty liquid into his skin.

When Oliver’s lips fell open, she didn’t pull away. 

Not when he caught her eyes. 

Not when he drew Felicity’s fingers into his mouth and gently sucked.

And suddenly, that background humm of arousal was an intolerable surge. 

Suddenly, Felicity’s own nakedness was impossible to ignore and the clothing Oliver still wore, ripped and disheveled and _sexy_ as it was, was far too much.

Suddenly, her nipples pebbled, scraping against the lace of her bra with each breath she took.

Suddenly, his erection burned her skin, demanding all of her attention. Felicity’s thighs gripped his as her core spasmed with need and—

Her fingers fell from his mouth and Oliver immediately murmured, his voice soft but sure, “I _do_ respect you.”

Felicity gulped, his words triggering another gush of arousal. She was pretty certain Oliver could feel it too. As tightly pressed together as they were.

Still, her instinct was to deny it. To brush aside Oliver’s words as a lie. A placation.

Except he couldn’t lie.

“I might not always show it, not in the right ways,” he continued in that same heartfelt tone that had her shuddering. “But, Felicity _, I do_.”

Not being able to refute Oliver’s words left Felicity feeling confused and overwhelmed, with an excess of energy and no way to vent it.

Well, she had _one_ way.

One thing that Felicity wasn’t confused about. At all.

Pushing her ass back against his cock until he groaned, Felicity’s hands crept under his shirt, pushing it up and over his shoulders, catching the suspenders as she did. 

“Felicity…”

She couldn’t bring herself to look into his eyes. It was too much. But that was probably how she saw his hands leave their white-knuckle grip on the arm rests, opening and closing as they inched toward her skin.

“Eh,” Felicity admonished, “hands where they were, Oliver.”

She didn’t even know why she said it. Maybe because she could feel her control slipping away and she wanted…needed it back.

Oliver obeyed instantly and that, _that_ was a good feeling. She liked that.

Felicity pushed his shirt and suspenders down until they were mid-bicep, pulling tight and restricting his movement. She liked that even more.

She rose up tall on her knees and felt Oliver’s cock reach for her, slotting into the place they both wanted it most. 

Then Felicity looked into Oliver’s eyes and said the absolute stupidest thing.

“But do you _trust_ me?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet some of you were waiting for that question, yes?
> 
> A small reiteration of my warning from Chapter 1: This story pulls off one layer than the next of Oliver and Felicity’s psyches and the deeper they go they more it leaves the _obvious_ motivations portrayed on screen. It went in directions that I had never considered before (and I’ve rehashed this subject a million different ways). 
> 
> This is just one interpretation. You may not agree with it, but this is really just about looking at things from a different angle.
> 
> And smut.
> 
> This story is also about smut. And there will be lots more of that too.
> 
> Thank you and happy reading!


	6. Faith, Trust, and Sex Pollen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> **It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 6: Faith, Trust, and Sex Pollen**

_Do you trust me_? 

That was the very first question that sprang to Felicity’s mind when she realized the full implications of this Truth Serum thing. 

Back in the beginning. Before the torn clothing and the tears, before the involuntary confessions, it had occurred to Felicity that this was the perfect opportunity to address that thing that loomed tall between them, keeping them apart. 

Trust.

But Felicity hadn’t asked. Because she wasn’t brave. Because she wasn’t ready for the answer. Because whichever way Oliver responded, everything changed.

If Oliver said ‘no’ it would confirm all her fears. If he wasn’t _capable_ of trusting her…did that mean the lingering hope that one day…did it mean it was _all_ over? Forever? Could Felicity cope with that?

But if he said ‘yes,’ the wall of cards she’d been building to keep Oliver at bay tumbled down and Felicity would be defenseless.

Both possibilities terrified her.

Was Felicity happy without Oliver? Not really. 

But there were places so much worse than where she was now. She knew, she’d been there. Recently.

So when the words left her mouth, “But do you trust me?” Felicity froze. It took her a moment to comprehend she had actually said them. Time seemed to stand still…

“Yes!”

Oliver’s answer was as immediate as it was passionate and it sent time surging forward again.

His eyes held hers in an iron grip as Felicity’s filled with tears. She wasn’t prepared for this. Her heart pounded in her ears but all she could think was… _what now_?

His cock jerked, brushing against her folds and Felicity had her answer. Life-changing questions and answers took second to _this_.

Felicity sank down, with agonizing slowness, watching Oliver struggle to keep his eyes open and as long as his stayed that way she didn’t allow hers that escape either. He filled her, bottoming out inside of her, it was…it was beautiful, almost enough to banish all deep thoughts completely. Something so very welcome.

It had been so long.

Except it hadn’t. The damn Truth wouldn’t let that idea fester. It’d been months. Maybe five. Maybe less since the slip up in the Bunker. 

It felt like forever.

It felt like yesterday.

Oliver groaned and his arms flexed and Felicity knew he was struggling to keep his hands where they were. Where Felicity had told him to keep them. By his side, held there by the flimsy bindings of a dress shirt and suspenders.

It was a type of trust. Doing as Felicity asked, sitting still while she rode him. Was that why Oliver was trying so hard?

And she found herself saying, “You trust me with your body, with your life but…” They had already established how little he valued that. Felicity laid her splayed hand over Oliver’s Bratva tattoo. “Do you trust me with your heart?”

“Yes.”

His answer was just as quick. Just as sure.

Felicity didn’t know what she was doing, what she thought she was accomplishing, but there was this part of her that just wouldn’t accept it. Truth Serum or not. She kept looking for the loophole. She couldn’t even let herself _contemplate_ Oliver’s words until she had closed every one. 

“But not with your secrets,” Felicity insisted, her words soft, her fingers tracing his temple. Until she couldn’t stand it any more and her eyes drifted away. “Not with your inner most demons.”

“But I _do_ , Felicity.”

Oliver sounded almost angry and it had her eyes flying back to his, whether she wanted them to or not. His arms, his shoulders were coiled even tighter in the effort to allow Felicity total control of…whatever the hell this was.

The naked truth on Oliver’s face was painful as he rasped, “I _trust_ you. I trust you with _everything_.”

Tears obscured her vision completely and her breath quickened. His words reverberated through Felicity’s head and still she looked for that loophole. “But—”

“Listen to me,” Oliver’s desperate command would have been enough. Even if Felicity had a choice. Even if there wasn’t a thousand things holding her captive. “I can’t lie. I. Trust. You. _Completely_. In every way. More than anything or anyone.”

A sob tore from her chest and Felicity shook her head, though she had no idea what she was denying. Not anymore. 

Oliver was undeniable.

The wall, her most important wall, crumbled. It was in a million pieces, every one scattered to the wind. It was painful. And terrifying.

Felicity could honestly say she had never felt more vulnerable.

But whether he realized any of this or not Oliver kept talking, each word more desperate and impassioned then the one before, “More than I trust myself…actually, I…” Oliver’s eyes became unfocused for a moment and he murmured, almost to himself, “I don’t trust myself.” 

His eyes cleared and claimed hers and Felicity’s breath hissed they were so bright.

“I don’t trust myself,” Oliver repeated, to her this time. “I don’t trust the world. I don’t trust fate or God or humanity. In fact, there is very little I do trust. But I trust _you_ , Felicity Smoak. Without reservation.”

Felicity stared. As stunned by the revelations as Oliver seemed to be. She had no idea how to respond and was pretty sure ugly tears were about to win her internal battle when—

Surging the inches between them, Felicity grabbed Oliver’s face between both of her hands and yanked him toward her. 

There was no shocked hesitation this time. Oliver met her halfway, open-mouthed and ready, all the passion of his words now infusing his kiss.

Their lips meshed. Tongues tangled. Sucked. In a synchrony Felicity had forgotten.

_Willfully_ forgotten.

But the terrified little girl who had controlled her for the last nine months was gone. Or at least her body wasn’t listening to her any more. It surged into Oliver’s completely, trying to touch as much of him as possible. And that throbbing length inside, the one she had somehow been able to ignore as Oliver shattered her world with his words, became the center of her universe.

Felicity clenched around him and Oliver groaned around her tongue, pushing deeper, closer.

Then she started to move. 

Her hands curled around the back of Oliver’s head, threading into the hair he seemed to be getting cut less and less often as Felicity rocked her hips, grinding her clit against his abs, swirling in tight circles to remind them both of the depth of their connection as electric shocks of pleasure shot out from every spot they touched and skittered across her skin.

It continued for several long perfect minutes before Oliver tore his lips from Felicity’s, turning his head to the side to escape, sucking in gasps of air.

Oliver never ended a kiss just to breathe.

With her fingers on his cheek, Felicity tried to urge his eyes, his lips back to hers. “Oliver, wha—?”

“Felicity….Felicity, _please_ ….”

She did love the delirious desperation in Oliver’s eyes. Felicity clenched again, then varied her rhythm, pressing her nose against his and humming, “Mm hm?”

“Can I touch you? Please?” And Felicity could feel Oliver’s hunger. “I _need_ to touch you.”

Even if Felicity could remember why she hadn’t wanted Oliver to touch her in the first place, it was not a request she could deny and she bobbed her head in an uncoordinated nod.

The confident femme fatale, the predator that had stalked Oliver and climbed on top of him, demanding obedience…gone.

All that was left was Felicity. Naked and raw. Desperate for touch, any touch, _every_ touch from the man she loved. 

Who had hurt her and had been hurt by her. 

Who reached a place deep inside her that no one else had ever come close to touching. 

And just when that knowledge threatened to overwhelm Felicity completely, Oliver reached out and grabbed her tight. Held her. Enveloping her and making her feel safe. Protected.

And so _so_ loved.

Maybe that was even more overwhelming.

Again that damn ugly crying threatened. Which would ruin what promised to be spectacular sex and that wasn’t fair either—

_Riiiip_ …

Felicity’s head jerked up at the sound and Oliver shrugged. “There really isn’t any salvaging this shirt.”

Hands circling his waist, Felicity searched for…her hand found bare back and she let out a huff of a laugh. In his haste to embrace her, Oliver had torn his fancy dress shirt right down the middle.

Now he was giving her this look…he somehow managed to look sheepish and unapologetic at the same time. It was adorable. 

The laugh grew and bubbled out, calming Felicity’s frayed nerves and bringing her focus back to the here and now. “Guess we’d better make sure it’s sacrifice is worth it then.”

Oliver’s smile started small and spread. His hands flattening over the small of her back and traveling up, in a deep, firm stroke. “His cause was a noble one.” His hands found the clasp of her bra and slowly (giving her plenty of time to stop him) undid it. “Even if his execution was misguided and overzealous.”

Felicity loosened her hold, allowing Oliver to peal that last piece of fabric from her body, smiling as she watched his hungry gaze rake over the flesh as it was exposed. But as much as she loved that look, it didn’t keep her from leaning into him until her whole body pressed against his and, wow, she’d missed this feeling.

“Well, then it is a good thing,” Felicity nuzzled his nose and murmured, “it’s just a _shirt_.”

There was a choked sound, but it lead to a full-body laugh. Oliver’s head fell back and…God, how long had it been since she’d seen him laugh like that. Maybe she missed that even more.

It gave Felicity the strength to make one last demand.

“ _Kiss me_ , Oliver.”

His eyes softened. His mouth curved against hers and Oliver obeyed.

The kiss was slow and reverent. Sensual. Felicity allowed Oliver to lead this time, rocking her hips in the same thorough rhythm while his hands cradled her as if she were the most precious thing on earth.

It was bliss.

Felicity might just be content to go on like this forever. God, if the rest of the world would just stay away, leave them be…what she wouldn’t give?

But it couldn’t last. A groan started low in Oliver’s chest and grew, rumbling up and turning into a growl.

The dam broke.

Actually, the dam fraking exploded.

Oliver’s hands were everywhere. His lips devoured. Slow and careful gave way to dizzying motion, every part of him was straining and moving. And Felicity followed. Inspired.

Their teeth clanked as Oliver’s tongue sought new depths. A strong hand kneaded her ass as the other ran up her side, his thumb slipping between their tightly pressed bodies to stroke her nipple. Even his abs seemed to be rippling with purpose, massaging her clit.

Stars exploded behind her eyelids and a scream tore from her lips, swallowed by Oliver’s as her body spasmed and clenched and…Felicity’s hips kept moving, even more desperate now, wanting to keep the amazing cascade of sensations coming and coming.

Felicity’s nails dug into Oliver’s shoulders and her head fell back. His lips followed, tracing the line of her neck before latching onto her collar bone, sucking as the waves started to ebb and her muscles uncoiled. 

Oliver caught her. His big hands swallowing her back as his mouth moved downward, urging her to arch further until his lips finally found her tight nipple. Felicity barely had time to let out a whimper before he pulled it deep into his mouth, his warm tongue curling around the puckered flesh for maximum pleasure.

She wasn’t prepared for how good it felt. Not so soon after such an incredible peak. Another high-pitched shriek erupted from her throat as that wave changed directions and started to spike again. Felicity really didn’t think the sound was all that pleasant but it made Oliver groan around her flesh, his hips surging up into her.

“Felicity,” Oliver murmured, the word muffled and interrupted as his tongue peaked out to caress her areola. “Can I…can I…?” he began chanting between flicks of his tongue.

“Oliver?” It was really all Felicity could manage. Though really, unless he was asking to stop, the answer was yes.

“I need…”

“What do you need?” Felicity’s eyes were starting the whole rolling into the back of her head thing. 

“Need…” Oliver looked up at her, his eyes dazed and starving. “Need to…can I fuck you?”

Felicity let out a shocked laugh. “Pretty sure you already are, honey.”

His expression didn’t change.

“Yes,” Felicity finally said. If that was what Oliver needed. “Yes. Yes…”

His arms banded around her. Hard. One arm curled over her shoulder, pulling her body down, pushing him deeper as Oliver’s mouth latched onto her shoulder and he…

He started to fuck her.

“ _Yesss_ …” It was a scream this time, yelled to the heavens as her neck arched. Deep, hard, rapid thrusts slammed into her until there wasn’t a cell in Felicity’s body that didn’t feel them. “Yes…yes…yes…yes…”

Felicity lost all sense of time and space. It was just stars and bursts of sensation and pleasure and heat and sweat and _Oliver_.

His groans were a harsh staccato in her ear, matching the rhythm of skin slipping and slapping together. The sound was beyond pornographic and it just pushed Felicity higher. When she didn’t think there was a higher to go.

Felicity wasn’t sure how long it lasted. Forever it seemed.

Not long enough.

Never long enough.

Before Felicity felt that familiar rush of warmth inside her, the gasp in her ear. Then she was draped over him, Oliver’s hold still unrelentingly tight as he panted against her neck.

Felicity loved it.

She rested her closed eyes against his sweaty skin, burrowing into the space where his neck met his shoulder and letting herself float.

It had been a long time since the world had felt…right. Since the sex fog clearing hadn’t brought unwelcome thoughts and emotions. Before Felicity was shot really, because the whole time she’d been paralyzed sex had ended in the worry that it would never be what it had once been. That eventually the work it took would exhaust them both and they’d…give up.

In truth, Felicity expected a barrage of unpleasant thoughts to hit her at any moment.

And thoughts came…

A replay of everything Oliver had said under the effects of the Sex Pollen. Of Truth Serum.

_I trust you._

_I trust you more than I trust myself._

_I respect you, even if I don’t always know how to show it._

_I want you to be happy, Felicity._

_Isn’t that what love is, putting the other person first._

Felicity’s brain rebooted. 

And with it came an overwhelming number of updates. 

_Then how am I_ supposed _to love someone?_

Puzzle pieces clicked together and…it wasn’t unpleasant. Felicity wasn’t filled with worry or dread or the feeling that everything was just _wrong_. 

In fact, the emotion pushing to the forefront was…epiphany. 

Was that an emotion? It certainly felt like it. It was a great feeling actually. Like everything that hadn’t made sense suddenly did.

Oliver thought that the way to love someone was to sacrifice his happiness for theirs. The greater the love, the greater the sacrifice.

Black and white. For a man who lived in the gray, in the shadows, he was surprisingly all or nothing. And when Oliver made a decision, he was all in.

And looking at it through this new lens, all Oliver’s decisions, his _worst_ decisions took on a whole new light.

But if Felicity had learned one thing in school, it was every new hypothesis had to be tested before it could be accepted. Proven before it became fact.

Felicity ran her hand through Oliver’s hair and found herself saying, “I need to ask you something.”

“Mmm hmm,” was Oliver’s sleepy assent, hummed against her neck. Felicity wasn’t sure _his_ brain had rebooted yet.

But that wasn’t what had her hesitating. If Felicity asked her question and she was wrong…if Oliver’s answers were something very different than what she was expecting…

Did she want to know? Could she stand it?

But if she didn’t ask, if Felicity stayed willfully in the dark wasn’t, she just a hypocrite? 

Besides, wasn’t she tired of living life in an in-between? Once Felicity had told Oliver to stop dangling maybes, but hadn’t she been doing just that for months? She needed to choose. She needed to be all in or all out. Their lives didn’t work any other way.

And Felicity was hurting him. Every day, hurting him.

_Even if I want_ more _. Every_ fucking _day I want more._

Felicity didn’t want to hurt him anymore. She wanted to move forward instead of sideways. No, in circles. They’d been moving in circles, dancing around each other for months.

_All you have to do is snap your fingers._

No, she had to do a whole lot more than that. Felicity had to face her fears. Her demons. And Oliver’s.

And to do that Felicity needed to know. Even if it broke her.

“Oliver, I need to know what you were hoping for…what you _wanted_ when you first met William.”


	7. Pandora’s Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 7: Pandora’s Box**

The relief Oliver felt was intense. 

Almost as intense as the pleasure itself.

But it was the contentment, the feeling of being complete that he never wanted to end. The blissful hum of no-thoughts as Oliver’s every sense was overwhelmed with _Felicity_.

_His_ Felicity.

Her breath in his ear. Her taste on his tongue. Her scent, her warmth, the way she held him as if she never wanted to let go.

Oliver knew he held Felicity even tighter.

If only he didn’t have to let go. If only they could stay like this forever.

“I need to ask you something,” Felicity whispered, her breath warm and comforting in his ears.

Oliver didn’t even think abut it before humming a, “Mmm hmm.” 

Anything. _Anything_ Felicity wanted was hers. He would move mountains. Gladly.

“Oliver, I need to know what you were hoping for…what you _wanted_ when you first met William.”

That feeling of relaxation…it disappeared so fast it left Oliver dizzy. 

Peace was replaced with a barrage of thoughts. So so many thoughts. He couldn’t keep track of them all. And with them came a deluge of emotion. 

Anxiety. Grief. Shame. 

It left him reeling.

It wasn’t until Oliver blinked his eyes open to see Felicity staring down at him with an anxious crinkle between her eyes, chewing on her lip, that he realized he hadn’t said anything in response. He had no idea how long he had been silent but it had apparently been long enough to banish all the confidence she’d shown earlier.

But before Oliver could come up with a single thing to say, Felicity murmured, “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I—”

“No. It’s okay.” 

It was a reflex answer. Something that burst out with the sole purpose of soothing Felicity. In reality, Oliver felt anything but ‘okay.’ 

Though, if he said it it must be true, right? 

Oliver _did_ want to tell her everything. He trusted her with every secret he had and he was eager to prove it.

Even if he didn’t think there would ever be a time when he didn’t worry he was one terrible story away from Felicity being convinced he was irredeemable after all. But that wasn’t on her, it was all him. 

So if what Felicity wanted was his secrets, they were hers. Whatever she wanted. 

And hadn’t Oliver been wanting, _praying_ for the opportunity to talk out the whole ugly affair with her, to explain his side of the decisions he’d made about William? He didn’t know what he could say to make it better, didn’t know how to explain it, but the time and space to _try_ …for _months_ it was all he’d hoped for.

And here it was. Oliver had to give this everything he had. This was his shot. Probably his _only_ shot.

Fuck, that was terrifying.

Felicity looked far from convinced by Oliver’s denial, Truth Serum or not. “It’s too much, isn’t it? To ask this under the influence of the gas?”

Like the things Oliver had asked of her? 

Shaking his head, Oliver insisted with as much decisiveness as he could manage, “It’s _not_. You have every right to ask about…William.” When would his voice stop going all weird when he said his name? “And I’m happy to do it like this. I don’t want you to ever question it’s the truth.”

Felicity’s lip trembled and she tried to deny, “I wouldn…” but by now they both recognized the signs of the Truth Serum not allowing them to say something false.

God, had he lost her trust so completely? 

The truth was in Felicity’s eyes and Oliver had no one to blame but himself.

Pulling in a deep breath, Oliver swallowed his grief and stroked Felicity’s back as he did his best to gather his thoughts.

He was still inside her. Still hard. Oliver was pretty sure that hadn’t waned in the slightest, but the arousal was manageable now, a pleasant hum without the overpowering and mind-numbing need he’d experienced before. 

And being connected like this didn’t distract him, it gave him strength.

He needed every drop he could gather, because right now, Oliver had to focus on what Felicity was asking him and he really couldn’t fuck this up. With that in mind, he swallowed and asked, “Can you, um, repeat the question?”

What a stupid-ass thing to say. Was he really fucking this up already?

“I’m sorry,” Oliver rushed to add, “you said ‘William’ and my brain went…” He waved his hand absently, unable to think of a word that worked. 

It succeeded at least in making Felicity smile, even if it did look kinda sad. “What did you want?” she repeated softly. “When you met…found out about William? What did you _truly_ want?”

Oliver’s breath left in a whoosh, cause…okay, no wonder he needed the question repeated. Of all the things he imagined Felicity asking…and he had spent an insane amount of time thinking about it, rehearsing his answers even, this one was new. 

It wasn’t something Oliver had even asked himself.

And he imagined Felicity would say that was a problem in of itself. 

Oliver’s eyes searched the room and found…nothing. When he met Felicity’s eyes again she was nothing but patient and understanding. He really didn’t deserve her. Never had.

“Sorry, this just isn’t something I’ve thought about in awhile—”

“Because you rarely think about what _you_ want,” Felicity finished for him, a knowing look in her eye.

“That’s not true,” Oliver denied instinctively, without thought.

Maybe the only way through this was to not think too hard about anything, to just say the first thing that came to mind, knowing it had to be the truth. Maybe they’d both finally get answers that way. God knew, there were plenty of times Oliver didn’t understand his own actions when all was said or done.

“I usually know _exactly_ what I want,” Oliver confessed, then gave a sad huff of a chuckle. “I also know I’m probably not going to get it, so what’s the point of dwelling on it.”

The frown that formed between Felicity’s eyebrows made it pretty clear she wasn’t happy with Oliver’s answer, but there was nothing he could do about it. In this game of truths you got what you got. ‘Want’ was irrelevant.

“Like what?” Felicity challenged, her voice harder now. “What do you want that you can’t have?”

“You want a list?” Oliver’s tone matched hers as he held her eyes steady. It was a warning. Were these _really_ truths she wish for? Because her words and actions of the last nine months told him it was a burden she didn’t want.

But whether she knew what she was getting or not, his Felicity straightened her shoulders and gave him a very determined, “Yes.”

“You.” It might not be fair, but it was the truth. Oliver watched Felicity try (and fail) to keep her reaction hidden as he continued, “William. The city safe. Safe enough that they don’t need the Green Arrow any more. John free of his demons and the damn corrupt military police. Thea cured of the Lazarus Pit. Roy home, free and clear. A house with a yard and 2.3 kids with William visiting on weekends and holidays to his very own room. You back in charge of my family’s company, revolutionizing the world. Me making a difference in the light of day, in a way that doesn’t put anyone I love in danger. My mom and dad here to see it—”

Felicity’s fingers pressed against his lips, stilling Oliver’s increasingly out of control words. Her eyes were wide and glistening with tears, her breathing fast. But, then again, so was his.

“Okay,” Felicity breathed with a watery laugh, “I didn’t realize I was opening Pandora’s box there.”

Oliver had tried to warn her, but it was too late now and…

Now _he_ wanted to know what she meant by that. What Felicity thought of his elaborate fantasies of with she was the center.

What Oliver said was, “See, I told you they were impossible.” 

And the confirmation that he truly believed it broke his own heart. 

“Not all of them,” Felicity argued, in a small voice.

All the breath fled his lungs. Oliver wanted to ask which ones were possible. _Which ones?_

But Oliver wasn’t ready for that much truth. There was a feeling erupting in his chest and he really wanted to hold on to it.

What was it about Pandora’s Box?

There, at the bottom, under all the pain and pestilence and darkness?

Hope. 

The gift to humanity so they could survive the rest. It was a gift Oliver desperately wanted to keep.

He took a deep breath, gathering his strength. “So…when I found out about William…?” 

This was an opportunity Oliver had to grab hold of with both hands. He might not get another.

Felicity nodded, looking a little shell-shocked. And Oliver couldn’t promise it was going to get any better.

“Before or after I knew for sure he was mine? Because I…I’m not sure if I can answer the first. If I _wanted_ him to be mine. I was…” Oliver took a pained breath, shaking his head. “Conflicted. Definitely conflicted. Overwhelmed. I wanted to…not fuck up.” That was for certain. He met Felicity’s eyes and repeated it. “I wanted to _not fuck up_. No matter what the truth was, what I wanted most was to not fuck it up and, God,” he couldn’t help but laugh, “I failed spectacularly, didn’t I?”

Felicity gave Oliver a compassionate smile, but didn’t disagree. How could she? It was obviously true.

“So tell me what you wanted once you _did_ know William was yours,” Felicity requested, a whole lot more sweetly this time. It helped. “What did you hope for then?”

Oliver gave another of those dark laughs and stretched his neck back. “Hope is a strong word.” Did Felicity realize this was another of those Pandora’s Box questions?

“ _Oliver_ ,” Felicity was more insistent this time. She wasn’t going to let him pull any of his usual crap and he knew it. “What did you _want_ to happen?”

He let out a sigh. Oliver didn’t think he wanted to even _think_ about this. “I wanted…still wanted to not mess up.” He gave a shrug and forced himself to keep going. It was obvious from the look on Felicity’s face that wasn’t enough this time around. “I wanted him to like me. I wanted to be a good dad.”

“Did you want to _be_ a dad?” Felicity pressed.

The answer came swiftly and easily. “Yes. God, yes.” And Felicity’s face softened, spurring Oliver on. “I wanted to get to know him and protect him and introduce him to you.” Her face contorted but he kept going, couldn’t stop really. “I wanted you to love each other. I wanted us to spend time together as a family. For us to look for a bigger place, a place for a family, where he could have plenty of space when he visited and…”

Oliver’s run away words died off as surely as the fantasy had. With the same quick and brutal death Samantha had given it the first time around, before it’d really had time to take root.

Pressing his eyes tightly shut, Oliver turned his head away. Though he only realized it when he felt Felicity’s soft hand urging him to face her.

Once he opened his eyes, Felicity asked, “So why didn’t you fight for it?”

Oliver couldn’t tell if she was angry or not, but he had a feeling it was inevitable by the time this was all over. “Because it wasn’t what was best for William.”

“Says who?”

Felicity still didn’t sound angry per say, but that didn’t keep Oliver from getting defensive. “His _mother_.”

“And it never occurred to you that she might be wrong?” Felicity challenged, lightning quick.

It had him answering, “No,” just as quickly. Though given the look he earned from Felicity he wished he’d thought about it a minute. It didn’t stop him from digging a deeper hole, “Because everything Samantha said was true. William was better off out of my… _orbit_. Everything I touch falls apart. Everyone I love gets hurt. Seriously, life- _threateningly_ hurt. Those who aren’t dead…”

Oliver forced himself to stop when he realized he was yelling. Right in Felicity’s face. Damn it! 

“Sorry,” Oliver muttered, running a hand over his face. What the hell was he doing? He reached for Felicity’s waist. To lift her off of him. To give them both space and—

“Uh uh…” Felicity grabbed his hands before they could, lacing them together instead, holding them captive.

Oliver sagged, surrendering. Made sense, since he was feeling fucking defeated. “Felicity, what’s the point of all this?”

He really hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“The point is…” Felicity’s eyes pierced his, but…still not mad. Thank _God_. “You believe love is about sacrifice.”

All Oliver could do was shrug. He was so tired. “Didn’t we go over this already?”

Felicity’s lips twisted. What was wrong with him? Did he _want_ her to get angry? Luckily, she ignored Oliver’s fool words and kept going, “And that if you choose what _you_ want that’s being selfish.”

“Yeah…” Obviously.

“And that you’re not loving properly.”

“Yes,” Oliver nodded. “And…you disagree?” Because it felt like Felicity expected him to see the problem with his thinking. But he really didn’t.

Felicity’s sigh was more accepting than frustrated. “The flaw is that it’s not selfish to ask for what you want,” she explained and Oliver frowned. “It’s selfish if you _don’t_ consider what _others_ want. It’s arrogant and disrespectful to _assume_ you know what people need without asking, that you have the right to make unilateral decisions because you love them and have their best interests at heart.”

Oliver opened his mouth but found the only thing he had to say was, “Okay…”

Because that had taken a turn Oliver hadn’t expected and now he didn’t know if Felicity was trying to convince him he wasn’t selfish or that he _was_ a complete asshole.

“Okay?” Felicity parroted back, clearly looking for more but…

Oliver blew out a breath. “Okay…I need to think about it.” But as he did… “You _may_ have a point.”

It wasn’t like Oliver didn’t know he was an ass, but where that put them, he had no idea.

“May?” Felicity laughed. “Pretty sure we just figured out the root of like… _90_ % of your issues.”

Oliver wasn’t sure he agreed with that. Or that he was liking any of this, but Felicity seemed…happy? And she was still on his lap, which was a positive sign. Actually their bodies were still intimately connected (and, God, it was so fucking weird that he was still hard). So maybe he needed to follow her lead?

“Let’s assume I’m not as smart as you and walk me through this.” Because no matter what, Oliver still felt like he was three steps behind.

Felicity tilted her head and gave him a disapproving look, but then she sighed and asked, “Did you—do you love William?”

“Yes,” Oliver snapped, almost insulted by the question. “Of course.”

“And you wanted to be his father?”

“Yes.” Oliver wanted to say ‘asked and answered’ but he supposed this was what he got for asking her to break it down for him.

“And the best way to express how very much you loved him was to do the opposite of what you wanted? A sacrifice equal to your love for him?”

“Yes—wait…” Crap. That wasn’t right. “I...”

But Oliver found he couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t say ‘ _no_.’ 

What the hell did that even mean? 

He’d had very logical reasons for bowing to Samantha’s demands, all of which had to do with William’s health and happiness. And he had been trying to work towards her changing her mind, to letting Oliver into William’s life so he hadn’t been ignoring what he wanted completely.

But still he couldn’t seem to flat out deny it and Felicity was staring at him with a knowing, almost _know-it-all_ expression. Frowning, Oliver argued, “I think you are over-simplifying—”

“Two and a half years ago, at the mansion, you told me you loved me. Did you mean it?”

What the fuck? “Yes!

“Did you want to be with me?”

“God, _yes_ ,” Oliver breathed, though he had a feeling Felicity was leading him straight into a trap.

“So you thought the most logical thing to do was pretend it was a lie to fool Slade and keep your distance?”

Oliver pressed his lips shut, managing to keep the ‘yes’ inside, but a ‘no’ wasn’t going to happen. Fuck. He met Felicity’s challenging gaze and he knew she thought she’d won. Maybe she had. 

Finally, Oliver argued, “I asked you out.” It was the only defense he had. It would be a pretty good one if it hadn’t been five months later. 

He waited for her to point that out, but instead Felicity said, “And after that one date, you decided to sacrifice _both_ our happinesses to the alter of your love for your city.” This time the edge was definitely there.

So it was good Oliver was able to say, “No.” 

Ha! Finally!

“No?” Felicity parroted back, clearly thrown by Oliver’s ability to say the word.

“No, that wasn’t me sacrificing _our_ happiness for the city. That was about keeping _you_ safe. I tried to have it all and all it did was distract me and almost get _you_ killed.” Oliver argued, trying to show there was _actual_ logic involved but now that he said it, he wasn’t sure Felicity would like this answer better, even if it was the truth.

But Felicity’s voice was small and vulnerable as she whispered, “So you chose being the Arrow over me.”

And that was how she broke Oliver’s already damaged heart. 

How long had Felicity felt that way?

“ _No_ ,” Oliver was able to say easily. “I chose being the Arrow over being _Oliver Queen_.”

“And me?”

“No. Because I—”

The sudden moment of clarity was a sucker punch and Oliver’s head fell back. 

_Fuck_. 

Felicity caught his head, her fingers carding through his short hair.

“I’m not sure I want to say this out loud,” Oliver confessed in a whisper, his eyes still firmly closed.

“You don’t have to,” Felicity whispered back, but the disappointment in her voice was more effective than any demands.

Shaking his head, because Oliver already knew he was going to tell her. Still he prefaced it with, “You know 90% of the time I don’t tell you something it’s because I’m ashamed.” The remaining 10 was equally split between trying to protect her and pure-unadulterated stupidity.

Her nails scraped against his scalp in a soothing rhythm as she whispered, “And you’re ashamed now?”

“It’s certainly not something I’m enjoying admitting, even to myself.” 

Felicity’s hands urged Oliver’s head up and he opened his eyes to look at the solemn face of the woman he loved. 

She still had her hair up from the party.

This was not the time to be a coward. The stakes were too high. Tonight could either end with their friendship in tatters, their working relationship strained, and Oliver a shell of the man he once was or…

Or this could be a new beginning. 

If they could survive this Goddamn Truth Serum, if Oliver could use it to help them _both_ understand, so he could make some sort of _amens_ …it was the best chance he was ever going to get.

Stealing his jaw, Oliver forced himself to look in Felicity’s eyes. “There was no choice. Between being Oliver Queen and the Arrow, because without the Arrow…Oliver Queen was no one.”

Felicity drew back a fraction, her brow creasing in concern. “Oliver?”

“ _No one_ ,” Oliver repeated. “Being the Arrow was the only worth I had, the only good thing I had ever done.”

“Oh God, Oliver,” Felicity looked really distressed now. “That’s not—”

“And choosing Oliver Queen wouldn’t have meant choosing you, because without the Arrow there was absolutely nothing for you to love.” And the worst part wasn’t that he was ashamed to admit he’d felt this way, but that it was completely true.

“That is _not_ true.”

Obviously Felicity disagreed.

And that _did_ make Oliver feel better, even if he was pretty sure she was only fooling herself. He shrugged. “You fell in love with a hero, not a college drop-out, failed businessman, ex-billionaire.”

Felicity pierced her lips, taking a steadying breath through her nose. Oliver wondered if she was trying to find a way to tell the truth and spare his feelings.

“I fell in love with _you_ ,” Felicity finally said, hitting him hard, right in the chest. As an argument, Oliver had to say it was a good one. “Not your money or your business or even your damn hood. Yes, I fell in love with a hero. You. _You_ are a hero with or without the bow and arrow. It’s who you are.”

It was possibly the perfect thing to say, so why were Oliver’s eyes burning as he argued, “When it was just me, you were bored.”

And, _fuck_ , Oliver hated how lost and pathetic that sounded.

Felicity just looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Ivy town,” Oliver reminded her, wishing he could keep his fool mouth shut.

Frowning, Felicity seemed to deflate as she admitted, “I _was_ bored. But not with _you_. God.” She sounded almost angry, her eyes looking away, filling with tears. “I should have just gotten a damn job. Sometimes I look back at that time and I feel like such a child, complaining about dish patterns when I was safe, happy, loved—”

“But not fulfilled,” Oliver argued. Because how happy could she…could _anyone_ be if they weren’t fulfilled?

The look Felicity gave him was sad and apologetic and Oliver realized with shock that the only one she was angry at in this scenario was herself. “It isn’t your job to fulfill me or to even make sure I’m fulfilled, Oliver. That’s _my_ job. And you coming back to Star City…that was just one more sacrifice you made for me, wasn’t it.”

“No,” Oliver was getting better at that word, “ _that_ was a compromise.”

And finally he earned a small pleased smile.

Still, Oliver found he wasn’t comfortable with where this conversation had gone. “Not everything I do is about sacrifice, Felicity. You make me sound like a saint or something.”

“Whoa,” Felicity said, hands out, eyes wide, “no one said ‘saint’.”

Oliver had to chuckle. “Fine, how about ‘misguided hero with the secret heart of gold.’”

Felicity nodded, considering. “Closer.”

Laughing again, Oliver shook his head. “That’s not me, Felicity, as much as I’d love for you to think it is. I’m selfish by nature.”

“Um, I don’t think I agree with that assessment.”

Oliver grunted with frustration. He wasn’t enjoying arguing this point, but he was beyond uncomfortable letting Felicity believe something so…incorrect. “Laurel certainly would,” he argued, hoping just the reminder of his past would be enough and he wouldn’t have to enumerate his sins. 

“I’d disagree with that too,” Felicity said with far too much conviction. “The reason Laurel was at your side at the end, despite everything, was because she knew exactly what sort of heart you have.”

Okay, that was probably true. 

Damn it.

“I’m selfish, Felicity,” Oliver insisted. Because he was a complete idiot bent on self-sabotage. “Look at…look at tonight.”

That made Felicity laugh out loud. “Oliver, this whole conversation started because you were ready to _die_ of a Sex Pollen induced heart-attack rather than _potentially_ take advantage of me in a similarly drugged up state.”

“Only because I’d taken too much from you already,” Oliver burst out and than flinched. Fuck. He should have quit while he was ahead. 

“Tonight?” Felicity asked, her voice disbelieving.

Oliver nodded. Christ, he hated this.

“Tell me you aren’t referring to the spectacular oral sex—”

Oliver shook his head. He’d love to back out, but it was too late now. He just needed to rip off the damn bandaid. “No. I’m referring to the,” he took a deep breath, “the questions I asked. The confessions I had no right to force.”

“Oh.” That took the wind out of her sails. Recognition came with a flash of guilt. The was no way Felicity was glad she had confessed the failings of her current boyfriend. “You mean…”

“Yes. I knew you had to answer, but I asked anyway,” Oliver confessed and he couldn’t help but think if his goal was to convince Felicity to give them a second chance, he was doing a piss-poor job. “It was a violation.”

“I didn’t _have_ to answer,” Felicity offered and Oliver had to scoff in disbelief. “I had to tell the truth, just like I do now. But I didn’t have _to_ answer.”

Oliver wished he could leave it at that. Take that out. “I think we both know that when you start talking its really hard for you to stop.”

For some strange reason that made Felicity laugh, but she acknowledged, “True.” She seemed to be considering him before finally asking, “Did you know I was going to admit all those things?”

Like that no one else lived up to Oliver in bed?

“ _No_ oo.” Now he was laughing, the idea was so ridiculous. “No, I did _not_. In fact, I was expecting you to say something I really didn’t want to hear.”

“So why did you ask?” And this time Felicity just sounded genuinely curious.

“As you might have guessed, from this conversation alone, I have self-destructive tendencies,” Oliver drawled and Felicity pressed her lips together, fighting a laugh as she tried to frown at him. “That and I was feeling reckless and…” He let out an ugly laugh as the most important reason surged forward, refusing to be left out. “Jealous. God, Felicity, I don’t think I’ve ever felt such overwhelming jealousy. I thought I was going to drown from it.”

Felicity’s lips twitched as if she wanted to smile, but Oliver tried not to read too much into it. She didn’t say anything and in the vacuum the damn confessions kept coming.

“Did you know I’ve never been jealous before you?”

“I did not know that,” Felicity whispered and Oliver would swear her eyes were smiling even if her lips weren’t.

“Well, romantically anyway,” Oliver clarified, the damn Truth Serum giving him no choice. “There were a couple times when Thea was little that I was definitely jealous, but only because she was so damn cute and dad never seemed to get mad at her.”

The smile finally reached Felicity’s lips and she actually looked charmed.

Fuck him.

“This Truth Serum stuff seems to lead to some really awful tangents,” Oliver pointed out. For no good reason.

Felicity chuckled (so maybe that was reason enough). “It does. It just doesn’t look that different from normal on me.”

Oliver found himself smiling back even as he said, “The first time I felt, the jealousy, was Barry.” Oh God, could he stop already? “It was such a new sensation that I didn’t even recognize it at first. Then Ray.” He had to look away as that damn emotion he hated so much started to build. “And now Detective Scrawny—“

“ _Oliver_ ,” Felicity interrupted, gentler and softer than he deserved. He looked at her and saw the guilt in her eyes and he _hated_ it. “He’s a good man.”

“I know that,” Oliver hissed. “They are _all_ good men. So much better for you than me and, I swear, I’ve wanted to put an arrow through every single one of them. What kind of man does that make _me_?”

“Well,” Felicity drawled, in her best indulgent tone, “considering you didn’t…”

As if _that_ meant anything.

“I would have,” Oliver argued, fiercely, because Felicity didn’t get it. “Tonight. If he was here, if I had seen him touch you in this state, I would have killed him. I swear to God, I would have.”

Oliver waited for the disgust, but Felicity just kept on smiling, her fingers trailing over his face. 

“Then I guess it’s a good thing we got out.”

“Felicity!” How could she make so little of this?

The hands on his face stilled, cupping his cheeks firmly. “Oliver, am I supposed to indict you of a crime you _might_ have committed under the influence of a mind-altering drug you were given involuntarily?”

Oliver growled in frustration. “Felicity, this jealousy, this _possessiveness_ , isn’t from the drug.” He grabbed her hips as the feeling enveloped him, claiming him. He tried to keep his hands from clutching her too hard, but while he thought he restrained from bruising her, he found himself pulling her down, grinding her onto the cock that was still deep inside, as he warned, “This need to claim you, it’s a part of me. It’s a fire I can’t control.”

He really didn’t expect Felicity to lean into his touch, for her eyes to dilate and her voice to go husky as she asked, “For me?”

Oliver answered the only way he could, “For you. _Only_ for you.”

Felicity’s hips started to follow the motion set by Oliver’s hands and he found himself grasping her ass harder, pulling apart her cheeks, tilting her hips toward him. And the increased grip of her thighs didn’t _dis_ courage him. 

“See, I’m capable of asking questions too,” Felicity murmured, her head rolling back. “Using the Truth Serum to my advantage.”

Oliver grunted. “Not the same.” It was quickly becoming difficult to think.

Felicity rose up on her knees and just when Oliver thought she might climb off, she slammed back down, rotating her hips in a way that made Oliver’s eyes cross.

“Pretty sure it is,” Felicity argued, but Oliver was rapidly losing the ability to follow the conversation. 

Felicity did it again, the rising and falling thing, and his neck arched as a groan rumbled out of him.

Nails digging into his shoulders (God, he loved the sting), Felicity nipped at his chin. Oliver found her earlobe and sucked it into his mouth and she moaned her approval, demanding, “Tell me. Tell me, I’m the only one you want.”

And she might have been trying to prove something, but it was the easiest thing Felicity had ever asked of him. 

“I only want you.” Oliver held her to him and pushed up hard, one hand finding a breast and kneading it.

“Oliver!” She yelled. “Oliver, tell me…tell me you never wanted anyone the way you want me.”

“ _Never_. God. Never. No one,” Oliver swore, dragging his teeth down her neck, finding her nipple and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “You make me insane.”

Felicity gripped him harder, pulled him closer. “How insane, Oliver? Tell me. Tell me!”

A primitive growl erupted from his throat and Oliver surged to his feet, nearly tripping over his pants as they fell to his calves, and shoved Felicity back onto his desk, slamming into her with the same motion, eliciting a scream that he felt in his dick.

Oliver pulled back, almost all the way out, before surging forward, thrusting in even harder, grinding at the end, loving the long low keen that came from Felicity’s beautiful mouth.

She stretched back onto the desk, her hands high above her head, her breasts… _all of he_ r on complete display. 

“Or show,” Felicity panted. “Show is good. Much better than tell. Good call.”

It was a good thing Felicity approved, because Oliver had lost the ability to form words, something primitive and animalistic was in control now.

Oliver tore off the tattered remains of his shirt and sent his shoes flying with a flick and a kick. His pants followed soon after. 

And he never stopped those long hard thrusts. There were somethings Oliver _knew_ he was good at.

The sound Felicity made when she reached for him was damn near animalistic as well. It just fed the beast.

But she had asked Oliver to show her how much he wanted her, how insane the idea of her with someone else made him…

Oliver grabbed Felicity’s hands before they reached him.. Lacing their fingers together, he fell on top of her, stretching their arms above her head, above the golden cloud that was her disheveled curls, and drove into her hard enough to make her teeth rattle.

Oliver might have worried it was too hard if he didn’t have such a perfect view of Felicity’s face. It was contorted with nothing short of ecstasy. Her eyes rolled back as she chanted, “Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver….”

Bending down, he caught her lower lip between his teeth. Just to get Felicity’s attention. And when he caught her gaze, Oliver growled, “Mine.”

Her soft mewl was all it took.

Oliver lost it. He pounded into Felicity as hard and as fast as his body would allow, while simultaneously plunging his tongue into her mouth, swallowing her screams.

Felicity started to come almost immediately, clenching around Oliver’s cock and crying out into his mouth. Her fingers gripped his, her nails digging into the back of his hands.

He kept pounding. 

Oliver tried to sustain an angle that would make it good for her, that would keep the pleasure coming. He tried to circle and grind at the end of each thrust, but it was difficult. So fucking difficult.

In the back of his mind, there was a part of Oliver warning him. It was too hard. Too fast. Too _everything_. There was a good chance he was hurting her. He needed to get control of himself.

But control was not something Oliver had any left of. 

It didn’t last long. 

Whether it was a blessing or a curse, it was only minutes before Oliver’s muscles were coiling tight, his neck arching back as he ground his teeth together. 

He thought another, “Mine,” might have emerged from his clenched teeth, but he _knew_ the word reverberated through his head.

Before Oliver knew it, he was limp and exhausted, panting into Felicity’s neck…crushing her…

_Fuck_.

What the _hell_ had he just done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This_ was the chapter I was referring to when I said this story would begin to explore character motivations I hadn’t thought of before. There are definitely more coming up in future chapters. I hope you are enjoying the different perspectives. 
> 
> I think I’ve been lapse in thanking my betas soooo…..THANK YOU GUYS SOOOO MUCH! And also to all my wonderful readers who take the time to show support with a comment, like, or reblog, or even a simple kudos!


	8. Not That Part of the Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 8: Not _That_ Part of the Story**

This was possibly the most satisfied Felicity had ever felt in her life.

And _that_ was saying something.

Laid out on Oliver’s desk in the soft glow of moonlight and city, 200lbs of pure man on top of her, panting in her ear, Felicity couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this good.

Oh, she knew it came with a price. That tomorrow would leave a huge mess for Felicity to unravel. People were going to be hurt and one of them would probably be her. 

But that was tomorrow. She’d worry about that when the air cleared and the sun came up. For now, Felicity had every intention of basking in the high of multiple Oliver-induced orgasms along with the heady intoxication she always got when he opened his soul up to her a little more.

Maybe the gas added to the high. Maybe it didn’t. It didn’t matter.

Felicity wasn’t stupid. Her mind wasn’t so foggy she didn’t realize tonight changed things. Changed _everything_ most likely. But decisions as important as the ones looming were not for tonight. 

Tonight was for the warmth of his skin and the salty tang of his sweat on her tongue. For Oliver deep inside her and his hands holding hers. For truths that tore them apart and touches that put them back together. 

“Wow,” Felicity sighed.

Because really, that was all there was to say.

Oliver seemed to jerk (which wasn’t necessarily the response she was expecting). He lifted himself off of her and when he met Felicity’s eyes…ah crap, she knew that face.

Way to well.

“That’s your sorry face. Don’t you _dare_ say you’re sorry, mister,” Felicity chastised, trying to cut him off at the pass. “That was way too good for ‘sorries’.”

Oliver’s lip twitched in something resembling a smile but his eyes stayed haunted. Ugh.

Ignoring her teasing, Oliver straightened and asked, “Did I hurt you?” His eyes roamed her body and he might have been looking for scrapes and bruises but her nipples didn’t seem to care.

Her breasts tightened and plumped, as if they were reaching for Oliver, feeling neglected no doubt. But he was too lost in his man’s pain to notice.

Felicity decided to ignore the later and stretched her arms over her head, grinning and drawling, “You mean in a hurts-so-good way, right? `Cause that’s the only way that makes any sense.”

This time Oliver managed a real smile. It wasn’t much bigger but at least it reached his eyes. “I meant,” he leaned down and threaded his hands into her hair, “did you hit your head? I slammed you down pretty hard.”

Felicity tried to keep from rolling her eyes, really she did. “If I did, I didn’t notice.” 

Then, before Oliver could start really mother-henning, Felicity lurched up and captured his lips in a short nipping kiss. 

When her head fell back, Oliver caught it in the cradle of his hands. He immediately started to massage her scalp…okay, so maybe Felicity missed his mother-henning just a smidgen. She hummed as he carefully removed what was left of her hair pins and ran his fingers through her knots so gently she didn’t even know they were there.

She most definitely missed that dopey look Oliver had as he gave her one last quick kiss. As if he couldn’t help himself. 

Then Oliver was standing up and pulling out, withdrawing his hands and…everything else. 

Which was a whole lot less good.

In fact, Felicity felt perfectly justified in her protest. As odd as all of this was, she had gotten used to Oliver’s hard presence inside her. It was a comfort in this weird little bubble that had very different rules than the ones they were used to. Without it, she felt kinda empty.

Oliver gave her a cautious half-smile and a gentlemanly hand, murmuring, “That desk can’t be very comfortable.”

The juxtaposition of sweaty and wild well-fucked man, and his best one-percenter manners made Felicity giggle, a sign in of itself of how far she had let go of her tightly held control and she allowed Oliver to pull her into a seated position.

How long had it been since Felicity had let that control slide?

Actually…no. Nope. Didn’t want to think about that. 

Sex Pollen.

Yup. That’s what Felicity wanted to concentrate on.

All that lovely, completely justified, consequence-free, guilt-free sex.

Wasn’t that the point of Sex Pollen?

Except Felicity wasn’t so far gone as to not realize there would be a boatload of consequences when they got out of here. Hell, Oliver was already swimming in guilt. Felicity would be too if she let her mind go there. 

That was if they remembered it in the morning.

Her stomach dropped and Felicity felt dread. She could handle anything that happened tomorrow, but she wanted to remember.

Please, God, Felicity wanted to _remember_.

“Hey,” Oliver broke through Felicity’s mini-spiral with a light hand on her chin. “You okay?”

Felicity forcibly pushed away her fears and all the other heavy feelings. This was not _that_ part of the story. It was way too early for guilt and consequences.

Shaking her head to shake free any stray _worries_ , Felicity grinned at Oliver and…

“Holy hell, Oliver, how are you _still_ hard?”

Oliver glanced down at himself and Felicity didn’t know how he managed it, but she’d swear the big hulking dreamboat blushed. Though, he didn’t turn nearly as red as that glistening cock of his. 

Still standing tall, it bounced up to hit Oliver’s belly button, looking about as happy as she was to be out in the cold, especially when he’d been so warm and snuggly for the last hour or so. Poor baby. 

“I’m going to hazard a guess and say, ‘Sex Pollen’,” Oliver drawled and that was possibly the only thing that would get Felicity to take her eyes off his impressive anatomy.

She laughed and sent him a very approving grin. If anyone had told her that ‘Sex Pollen’ would become a part of Oliver Queen’s vocabulary she would have said they were nuts, but she had to say it was a good look on him.

Of course, most looks were good on him. But this felt a little like Oliver was stepping into Felicity’s hidden (and almost forgotten) nerdy adolescent fantasies. And it was fraking hot.

“Did you even come?” Felicity asked with a smirk, because she knew the answer. 

Felicity was well acquainted with Oliver’s o-face and was pretty damn certain she’d seen it at _least_ three times tonight.

Three times. That was their twelve-hour record. Not their twenty-four-hour record though. Felicity had a pretty solid feeling they were about to break both tonight. 

“Pretty sure,” Oliver’s voice was dry, with enough of a dark undertone to tell Felicity she needed to do something.

Felicity had decided to embrace the Sex Pollen high and deal with the consequences when the air cleared and the bubble popped. 

And no way was she letting Oliver prematurely pop that damn bubble. Felicity needed to get him back on the sexy-time train. Fast.

Oliver started to turn away and Felicity acted on instinct. “Whoa, where are you going?” She hopped off of the desk and grabbed his arm…though she would have preferred a different appendage. 

“ _Felicity_ …” It was a pained sigh and, dear God, couldn’t Oliver hold off his brood for five whole minutes?

Her own guilt and anxiety started to lick the edges of Felicity’s consciousness and… _hell no_.

Felicity plopped herself down in Oliver’s chair (leather was less fun naked) and curled her fingers around that preferred appendage.

Oliver’s next, “ _Felicity_ ,” was just as pained, but she liked the sound of it far better.

“I think I had better take a look and make sure nothing’s wrong,” Felicity told him matter-of-factly, not even bothering to try to look innocent as she smiled up at him. 

Huffing out a disbelieving laugh, Oliver sighed, but he turned toward her, clearly deciding that he was going to indulge her.

It would do. For now.

“Does it hurt?” Felicity asked, realizing she was only half joking. How long could a guy stay hard before it started to hurt? How many times could he come?

“As in hurt-so-good?” Oliver asked with a lopsided smile and Felicity laughed. 

In fact, she would have high-fived him if she didn’t think it would blow poor Oliver’s brain. So, instead, Felicity rewarded Oliver with a long, slow lick up the entire length of his cock, eliciting a deep rumbling groan.

“Mmm. Certainly, tastes like you came,” Felicity grinned up at him. “Tastes like you and me combined.”

This time Oliver growled. It was Felicity’s only warning before he lunged for her, his hand curling around her head and pulling her in for a deep, toe-curling kiss.

Literally. 

It was the last straw for her four-inch heels and they clattered to the floor, leaving Felicity to kick them out of the way.

When Oliver let her breathe, Felicity curled her fingers into his shoulders and licked her lips. “Yummy, right?”

“Delicious,” Oliver agreed, low and husky. His hands clutched the armrests, boxing her in and as nice as that was Felicity started to contemplate the best way to move him to a more desirable position. Plus, her sweaty skin was sticking uncomfortably to the leather. “Felicity?”

“Mmm hmm?” Was it time to explore that lovely couch Oliver had in his office or…?

“Why don’t you hate me?”

Well, fuck.

Felicity guessed she must be wearing a pretty impressive scowl because a look of fear crossed Oliver’s face and she saw him retreat before he even moved.

But retreating was _not_ allowed. 

When Oliver straightened back up, Felicity stood with him. There was no way she was having this (or any) conversation with him towering over her. She kept her fingers wrapped around his shoulders and pushed up to her toes, trying her very best to keep eye-to-eye. Where was a step stool when she needed it?

“ _Oliver_ ,” she pulled him back as he tried to turn his face away. “Listen very closely. And remember I can’t tell a lie.” Felicity waited. She watched his Adam’s apple bob and his lips press together before his eyes met hers. When his hands came to her hips to help her balance, she said, “There is absolutely _nothing_ to hate.”

His face started to scrunch up, his lip trembling. “But—”

“Does any one know you better than me?” Felicity asked (demanded) and finally Oliver’s face started to soften.

“No,” he whispered, his chin dipping and the corners of his lips turning up.

“And whose the smartest person you know—don’t you dare say Curtis!”

That earned a full chuckle. “You,” Oliver answered without hesitation. “No contest.”

That was actually pretty nice to hear under the influence of the Truth Serum. Oliver knew quite a few geniuses and Felicity was pretty sure more than one had a higher IQ than her.

“So you are going to listen to me when I say there is nothing to hate. _Nothing_.” Felicity took a breath and wasn’t surprised when it shook. She mentally prepared herself to have to list the reasons, even though she was pretty sure it would break her.

But Oliver didn’t ask. He just sighed, closing his eyes, and dropping his forehead to hers. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Oliver finally whispered, so quietly Felicity might have missed it if she wasn’t staring at his lips.

It was on the tip of her tongue to deny it. Especially since it wasn’t an ‘I don’t deserve you and I’m so grateful to have you,’ it was an ‘I don’t deserve you and that’s why I don’t have you.’

But Felicity was afraid if she argued the first part, she’d wind up denying the later too. The part about Oliver not having her.

The Truth Serum wouldn’t stop her. In fact, it seemed to want the words said. 

But that wouldn’t be fair, for Felicity to make promises or declarations. Not tonight. Not to the man in her arms or the one downstairs who she was betraying…

And _that_ was a thought Felicity _really_ wasn’t prepared to deal with. 

“Oliver,” Felicity patted his chest to get his attention. When he opened his eyes she said, “I know you don’t know this because you aren’t well-versed in the world of FanFiction.” His lips twitched and curled in amusement. “So I’m going to educate you. There is a point in every Sex Pollen story where our hero and heroine…psst that’s us…”

Oliver’s chest started to shake with laughter. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure.”

“Any time. Anyway, there comes a time when they give up on the whole ‘we shouldn’t do this’ ‘we need to fight it’ angst and just go with it,” Felicity explained and was very encouraged when Oliver’s dimples caught the light. “Then there’s the free-for-all, marathon-of-hot-sex part of the story. I’m pretty sure _that’s_ the place we’re at now.” 

Felicity poked his naked pectoral for emphasis, cause she was _so_ ready for that part of the story. 

The dimples deepened and Oliver asked, “You’ve read a lot of these stories, haven’t you?”

Felicity wrinkled her nose at him. That wasn’t exactly the answer she was looking for. “Do I have to answer that?”

Oliver let out a deep rumbling laugh. “Oh yes.”

That deserved a tongue. She stuck it out and kinda hoped it would distract him, but it just made his chest shake harder. “Fine, but you’d better not judge.”

“Never,” Oliver swore. He even put a hand over his heart.

It made Felicity roll her eyes but she answered, “Yes, okay? Do you want a count?”

“Can you give me one?” Oliver asked, delighted.

And at that moment Felicity really wished she were capable of lying. “No.”

“Because it’s so many?”

Damn him.

“Yup.”

Then Felicity yelped as Oliver hugged her tight, his laughter surrounding them, his breath in her ear filling her with warmth.

Then he said, “God, I love you.”

Okay, then.

Felicity stiffened. She couldn’t help it. She pushed back and searched Oliver’s face, her heart pounding in her chest. “Oliver—”

“Shh…” Oliver’s fingers immediately covered Felicity’s lips. “Don’t say anything,” he whispered and she held her breath. “I said it and it’s the truth. Obviously. A truth _both of us_ have known for a long time.”

Felicity wasn’t totally sure about that but she was starting to get a little lost in the look in Oliver’s eyes. She let out a tiny whimper.

“And it’s a truth that stands on its own. No response needed.”

Now Felicity was pretty sure she was going to cry. She pressed a kiss to Oliver’s fingers and wrapped hers around them, pulling them away from her lips. “And you wonder why I could never hate you…”

Olivers answering smile was sad, but also warm and so damn full of love.

Moving so she could lean against the desk, Felicity took his face into her hands again. “Oliver, I—”

“You don’t have—”

“Shhh, let me speak.”

Oliver let out a breath and gave her a small smile, nodding.

And even though Felicity trusted him to keep quiet she found herself tracing his lips with her thumbs anyway. “I can’t make any promises. Not tonight. Not while we are both drugged—”

“I don’t—”

Felicity applied pressure with those thumbs. “Okay, maybe I don’t trust you to keep quiet after all.” Oliver chuckled, biting his lip. “You know it wouldn’t be fair to _anyone_ …” He nodded under her hands. “When I don’t know how I’ll fe…”

And Felicity felt that now familiar wall, the unseen force tugging the words back into her mouth. 

Because they weren’t true.

“Okay, so I guess I _do_ know how I’ll feel,” Felicity laughed uneasily as Oliver narrowed his eyes in confusion. “But I guess that makes sense since my feelings haven’t really changed despite anything…” Frak it all. “What I _mean_ is that I don’t know what I’ll think or…” What the hell _did_ she mean? “Big life-changing decisions need to be made in the absence of mind-altering substances, right?”

Did _any_ of that make sense?

Oliver’s relieved breath and genuine smile seemed to say it did. “Absolutely.”

“I’m not saying I _won’t_ be making any life changing decisions in the near future.” Oh God, why couldn’t Felicity stop talking? “Just not—”

“Under the influence of Sex Pollen?” Oliver finished, his tone almost teasing. He leaned over her, looking lighter than he had in…months. The corners of his eyes were even crinkling.

Felicity gulped. “Exactly.” 

Should Felicity be worried she was giving Oliver too much hope? 

But didn’t he have good reason to hope?

“So…uh…that part in the story where…” Oliver prompted and _thank God_.

“We find out how many orgasms it takes to make _that_ go away?” Felicity offered with a gesture _downward_ with her chin and a bright enthusiasm that didn’t need to be feigned. Because she was _soooo_ for this conversation 180.

Oliver let out a shocked little laugh (mustn’t have been expecting Felicity to jump on board quite this quickly) and glanced down to where his cock was tapping her stomach, prodding as if to say, ‘hey, remember me? Bored now!’ 

Oliver’s cock was very melodramatic.

The man himself, however, gave a little snort and said dryly, “Somehow I think we’ll probably collapse from exhaustion before that happens.”

“Ooo, that sounds like a challenge, Mr. Mayor,” Felicity teased, because it was time for playful, _Goddamn it_. The angsty part of the story was over. 

Well, not _over_. Sex Pollen stories always had a hefty dose of angst when the air finally cleared. But they weren’t there yet. This was the in-between part. The good part. The sexy part. The part that made the rest worth it. 

And the hell if Felicity was going to let Mr. Broody-Pants ruin it.

Unfortunately, so far Mr. Broody-Pants was only looking mildly amused. “Mr. Mayor?” he asked with a single arched eyebrow. At least he had the sexy part down.

“Uh huh,” Felicity confirmed with a decisive nod. “Come on, tell me you’ve never fantasized about being called ‘Mr. Mayor’ in bed? Or, you know, _out of bed_?” 

Because this was a fantasy meant for a very special setting. _This_ setting. 

Oliver’s smile dimmed (the exact opposite of her intention). “I haven’t exactly had the richest fantasy life recently.”

Felicity couldn’t say she had either. She tried to avoid those sorts of thoughts since she was trying to get over the person her mind insisted on casting in the leading roll. 

Forcing her smile to stay in place, Felicity pushed on, “Who says all fantasy fulfillment has to be based on premeditated fantasy.” She ran her hand over the warm mahogany of Oliver’s desk. 

This might be the first time Felicity was allowing herself to indulge in these thoughts, but that didn’t mean they weren’t awesome. 

But when Oliver didn’t immediately agree, Felicity impulsively added, “Wanna know a secret?”

That finally got her the smile she wanted. 

“Always.”

So why did it bring a lump to Felicity’s throat? 

Swallowing, Felicity pushed forward the bravado and said in a stage whisper, “I get jealous and possessive too.”

Oliver’s eyes lit up and his dimples flashed. “Yeah?”

It was an encouraging response. One that had Felicity’s heart racing and her thighs rubbing together. 

“Uh hm…” She leaned back against the desk and gave a one shoulder shrug. “I’d even venture to say you aren’t the only one having some… _unkind_ daydreams about a certain date to this event.”

Now Oliver was really grinning, he turned more fully toward her and leaned in to whisper, “Why Felicity Smoak, did you fantasize about…ruining Susan William’s credit report?”

Felicity laughed. And the honest truth was it was out of joy. There was something about someone knowing you so well…and appreciating even her nastier impulses.

“Why stop at a credit report? It’s a fantasy, right? Might as well go all out.” Felicity grinned, then bit her lip and very deliberately ran the flat of her palm over the mahogany. “But you want to know what makes my possessive side really _really_ happy?”

“More happy than ruining someone cyberly?” Oliver teased in a low rumble, his eyes flicking back and forth between her hand and her face, catching and lingering on her chest. Her bare chest. Because, yes, they were still very much naked. And the poor boy didn’t seem to know where he wanted to look more. His eyes were starting to dilate again, his nostrils flaring. “There’s something you enjoy more?”

More laughter spilled out, Felicity was rapidly returning to that giddy high (Thank _God_ ). “Oh, I think you know there is.”

Oliver’s eyes shot to hers with a look full of so much promise Felicity was surprised she wasn’t a puddle on the floor. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Ms. Smoak,” he murmured, edging forward until his lips were a bare inch away. “How can I help make your dreams come true?”

Frak. If that didn’t fill Felicity with want _and_ need.

And only a fraction of it was sexual.

“I may have had some not so wholesome thoughts about this desk here,” Felicity rasped, but then she found she was having trouble holding Oliver’s intense blue gaze. She blushed and her eyes skittered away to watch her own fingers draw figure-eights on the dark wood.

And there went the femme-fetal. Again.

He let out a noise that could have been an encouraging hum. Or it could have been a classic Oliver growl of arousal. Which, now that Felicity thought about it, was even more encouraging.

But even that didn’t stop the butterflies from starting an Irish stepdance in Felicity’s belly. Still she pushed on, “I might have had the…impulse to…completely debauch this beautiful piece of furniture so that you couldn’t speak to an attractive woman across it without thinking of me. Of us.”

It wasn’t until after she said it that Felicity realized how selfish that was to confess. Given she was the one keeping them from being together. 

_All you have to do is snap your fingers…_

Felicity gulped. The butterflies made much more sense now. 

Then she reminded herself Oliver had confessed he was afraid he’d murder her boyfriend. So on balance… 

Felicity snuck a look at Oliver’s eyes and…what she saw there made it hard to breathe. 

He shifted closer, caging her in, his arms bracketing her body against the desk, reminding Felicity how tiny she was compared to Oliver.

“You know, most often, the only attractive females I have in my office are you,” Oliver whispered in her ear and Felicity fought the urge to whimper, “and my sister.”

Oh God. Felicity’s eyes widened and they flew to Oliver’s. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

But clearly, Oliver didn’t either, because he was grinning that wolfish smile of his as he leaned in, forcing her to arch her back over the desk. “I’m teasing, Felicity.”

Hopefully the low light hid what Felicity was sure was the distinctly tomato-hue of her fair skin. She tried her best to ignore the way she was rapidly becoming more and more flustered. “I’ll admit that I was mostly thinking about reporters.”

“I bet you were,” Oliver rumbled and Felicity wasn’t even sure what that meant. But he sounded pleased. His chest brushed against her nipples and her sweaty palms slipped over the desk…

“Be careful of the computer,” Oliver warned, his voice losing a touch of its playfulness.

It had Felicity jerking her hand back. “Oh I’m sorry. Is it an important—”

Oliver chuckled. “Aren’t you the one who taught me _all_ tech is important?” Felicity found herself giggling, giddy again as his lips grazed her chin, her neck, her shoulder…. “I don’t give a fuck about the laptop, but I know you do so—”

Felicity didn’t know what possessed her. It was a damn _stupid_ thing to do but…

Her arm shot out and knocked the computer off the desk. 

On _purpose_.

It left the surface of the desk completely clear, which was Felicity’s goal. But then the sickening sound of metal and glass hitting tile…crashing…snapped her back to reality.

Okay, so that might have taken impulsive to a whole new level.

Felicity peered up at Oliver’s face, biting her lip and…he was staring at the broken computer with wide-eyed shock.

“So that didn’t go as well as the shirt ripping.” Felicity felt a good ol’ hysterical babble building in her chest. “Certainly not as hot—”

“Oh, that was _at least_ as hot as the shirt ripping thing,” Oliver breathed, his eyes still wide as his hand settled on her waist with a possessive grip. “Actually, that might have been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh,” Felicity let out a breath, “good.”

The words didn’t come out nearly as confident as she would have liked and Oliver turned his head to fix her with an amused smile. “Felicity, do you want to check on the laptop? See if you can fix it?”

A small part of her did. But the rest of her…

Felicity glanced behind her at the expanse of empty desk, then at the big handsome man in front of her. “Not particularly.”

Oliver let out a relieved grunt. “Good…”

Before Felicity knew what was happening, Oliver spun her until she was facing the desk. His hands caught her, keeping her from stumbling, one last palm cupping her breast, the other spread over her stomach and inching lower.

“…because I think we have a desk to debauch,” Oliver rasped in her ear.

Then before Felicity could even catch her breath, he was easing her forward. Her hands flew out to brace herself. Though it probably wasn’t necessary. Oliver had her.

Her arousal sky-rocketed. Like straight through the roof. To the moon and back. The sex cloud rolled back in so fast it was disorienting.

It was _fantastic_.

Oliver’s cock settled into the crack of Felicity’s ass and he sucked her ear into his mouth, his tongue playing with her piercing. One hand began to roll a nipple while the other slid through her folds, grazing her clit.

It was a good thing Felicity had thought to brace herself after-all, because Oliver’s next words had her knees buckling and her brain fritzing. 

“Feel free to leave scratch marks all over the desk.”

_Fuck_.

This was easily Felicity’s favorite part of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this happy(er) chapter. You may think you know what coming next, but I doubt it. The Truth Serum isn’t finished and neither is the angst.
> 
> The next chapter will be up on Sunday and I’ll resume my regular posting. I really hate that I wasn’t able to time this to be out before the holiday (the last chapters are the most holiday-ee), but the only option at this point is hold onto the rest until next year and I doubt any of you would like that. 
> 
> Let me know you are still reading, even though the holiday is over. I’ll admit that my enthusiasm for the story is starting to wane. I’m going on three months of working on it and that’s usually the point where I need to switch stories. But I only have ONE more chapter to write. Then its six to edit.
> 
> I’m going to work on replying to comments as soon as I get that last chapter written. I truly appreciate each and every one of you who takes the time to leave me your thoughts or even a simple stream of emojis! Thank you!
> 
> See you in a few days! Happy reading!


	9. The Lies We Tell Ourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small reminder, if you haven't liked my characterization of Felicity in the past, you probably won't like this chapter. Read at your own risk. 

Oliver came awake in an instant. 

He always did. Ever since the first time he woke on the island, after Yo Fey’s arrow gave him his very first scar.

But Oliver had learned not to open his eyes. To maintain the appearance of sleep while his other senses took in the situation the best they could. Because of this, he never faced a threat disoriented. He almost always got exactly what he expected.

Oliver knew he was in his office at City Hall, knew it was still night. He knew he was naked, sprawled out on the sofa, the leather one with the throws. He knew…he knew that they, him and Felicity, had been drugged. That they had fallen asleep after a super-human amount of sex.

He _couldn’t_ say exactly how many orgasms they had had between them, but he knew records had been broken. Oliver knew exhaustion had hit before his erection had completely gone away, though it had started to soften a little between the mind-blowing bouts.

Oliver knew he was hard _again_. That he wanted her _again_. Wanted Felicity.

No one else.

But that part wasn’t new.

Oliver was also completely aware that Felicity was not where she had fallen asleep, wrapped in his arms.

In fact, he knew Felicity wasn’t near. Not a single of Oliver’s well-developed senses could feel her.

So it stood to reason that by the time he slowly opened his eyes, every muscle in Oliver’s body was tense. Naked or not, he was ready for battle. 

Unfortunately, there was nothing to fight.

It was still dark (which he’d already known). Not even the first sign of dawn filtered in through the windows, so not much time could have passed. Oliver’s eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness and he took in the room.

It looked exactly as it had when they had finally passed out on the couch. Except…no Felicity.

Oliver was up and at the door in an instant. The duct tape hadn’t been disturbed so no one had come in. 

Or out. 

So where was—

The sound of running water coming from the small bathroom across the office was a profound relief. Oliver’s head fell forward and landed on the door as he closed his eyes and tried his best to center himself.

It was okay.

Felicity was there. She hadn’t been taken or kidnapped or hurt. She hadn’t run away without a word.

She hadn’t left him again. 

The water turned off and Oliver turned to watch the door to the bathroom. 

It didn’t open.

Yet.

Felicity hadn’t left him again _yet_.

When the air cleared and the sun rose, when the duct tape was peeled away…

The bathroom door stayed closed. 

Oliver’s eyes turned to the large clock on the wall. Even in the dim light, his eyes made out the time. 3:09.

He didn’t move. Oliver stood and watched the clock. 

Quiet. 

Still.

3:10. 3:11. 3:12. 3:13.

And the door to the bathroom stayed closed. 

There were no sounds from the other side. 

No water. No flushes. No rustling. 

Felicity wasn’t the quietest or most coordinated person. She had her own grace, but it was unusual for her to make no sound in a dark bathroom. And it _was_ dark. There was no light spilling out from under the door. There was a small emergency light so she wasn’t in pitch darkness but…

If Felicity was moving, she would make noise. It might be quiet but Oliver would be able to hear it. If she’d fallen, hurt herself, he would have heard it.

So the only explanation was that she was still. 

On purpose. 

Felicity was hiding from him.

Oliver began to pace.

3:14. 3:15. 3:16.

He pulled on his boxer-briefs and considered putting on his slacks as well but Felicity’s dress, her bra…the remains of her panties were on the floor where they’d left them. It felt wrong for him to be even half-dressed when Felicity was completely naked, vulnerable.

Oliver laid their… _salvageable_ clothing across the back of his chair and stuffed the remnants of the not-so-salvageable in a drawer to his desk. He didn’t want anyone who wasn’t the two of them to stumble upon anything…private. 

3:20.

Still nothing.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This was exactly what Oliver had been afraid of. _Every single thing_ he had been afraid of. Felicity must regret…everything. 

The sex that had been so much more than sex. 

The intimacy. 

The confessions. 

The questions. 

The truths. 

From the first moment Oliver had realized the gas wasn’t meant to kill or sedate them, that it was to… _manipulate_ them, he had been terrified that whatever happened under the influence would push Felicity further away. Be the final nail in the coffin of their relationship, whatever form that took.

An aphrodisiac was bad enough, but the Truth Serum.…

Oliver had always feared that if he laid it all out for her, was completely totally honest Felicity would finally understand he was too damaged, too broken to ever put back together. 

And she would leave. For good this time.

It was an old fear that had never truly faded. But last night…

Last night Oliver had started to believe, to _hope_ this might be something else. That telling Felicity the truth wouldn’t be the last nail in his coffin but his redemption. That it might be a turning point for them.

That they might actually find a way to rebuild from all this damn rubble.

But if this was a turning point, then it was Felicity _turning away_ from him. From them.

Was tonight finally going to give Felicity the closure Oliver knew she wanted? Allow her to move on with her asshole detective, who might be a ‘good’ man but who couldn’t possibly be good enough for Felicity?

Did he have any idea the woman he was getting? How good, how strong, how _brilliant_? Did _Billy_ worship her the way she deserved? This idiot, who wasn’t quick enough or strong enough or funny enough for his girl, with his small hands and his small dick…

_Fuck_!

3:24.

There would be no closure for Oliver. 

Even if he wanted it and…he didn’t. Not even a little. Felicity was it for him. Oliver wasn’t moving on. He was done. Losing her was losing his last chance. She had his heart and that’s the way it would stay. 

Now there was only the mission.

Again.

Maybe that was the way it always should have been. Hadn’t Oliver always known he was better off without distractions? Now it could be him and the mission until he died.

God, he hoped that would be soon.

If Oliver was going to die alone, he didn’t want to die _old_ and alone. He wanted to go out in a blaze of redemptive glory, saving the city and the people he loved.

_Christ_.

It was just like Felicity had said. He was a God-damned martyr with a death wish.

But what good did knowing that do him now? Did Oliver have the strength to fight it without Felicity by his side? Did he even want to try?

3:30.

Felicity had been in there a really long time. She couldn’t have fallen back asleep, could she? It had been…

_Holy shit_ had she really been in there…?

Had Oliver been standing here feeling sorry for himself for…21 _fucking_ minutes!

What the _hell_ was wrong with him? What if something was wrong? Something seriously, non-falling related, _wrong_? Felicity’s heart could have stopped…

Oliver was at the door to the bathroom before he gave his feet permission to move, but his hand froze on the knob.

He forced himself to take a deep breath.

“Felicity?” Oliver called out softly, slightly surprised when it came out even and firm with no sign of the emotional wreck he was inside.

The only response on the other side of the door was a whimper and a soft, hiccupping sob.

Fucking _hell_.

“Are you okay?” Oliver’s voice wasn’t even anymore and his heart was starting to race. At least she was conscious. That was something.

Felicity let out a watery laugh and called out, “No.”

Well, now Oliver knew two things. Felicity’s heart was still beating (thank _God_ ) and the Truth Serum was still going strong. 

“Sorry, stupid question,” Oliver called back and it felt suspiciously like the beginning of a babble. Felicity’s next laugh was semi-hysterical and it made his palms itch and his (already substantial) anxiety rise. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.” 

It was followed by a sniffle and Oliver was half-way inside before it occurred to him that given literal interpretation and Truth Serum that might not mean Felicity _wanted_ him to come in. But he wasn’t prepared to give her an out so he ignored his conscious and kept going. 

The room was lit only by a tiny glow over the vanity, an emergency light that never went off, but if Felicity didn’t want the harsh florescent lights on, Oliver sure as hell wasn’t going to subject her to them.

He found her huddled on the cold tile, tucked into the corner of the small room, hugging her knees to her chest. Felicity looked up at him, her face drenched, her eyes wide and puffy around the edges, her lip trembling.

“Fuck,” Oliver grunted, then immediately wished he’d kept that to himself. “One second, honey.”

Felicity probably didn’t need Oliver throwing endearments at her right then, but obviously his filter was shot and…ah the hell with it. He clenched his jaw and focused on finding a blanket and returning as quickly as possible.

It only took a few moments and when he came back…Felicity hadn’t moved.

Oliver crouched down and wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, relieved when Felicity leaned forward to let him. It was nerves that made him ask (stupidly), “You okay—?”

Another of those semi-hysterical laughs.

_Christ_ , why was he such an idiot?

“Sorry, no more stupid questions,” Oliver promised and that got a tiny smile. Thank God. But he still needed to make sure there wasn’t anything… _physically_ wrong. “Are you hurt?”

Felicity just shook her head.

“Are you cold?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t notice.”

What the hell did that mean? Oliver swallowed the irritable question and sighed. Felicity needed him to keep an even keel and he was going to. If it killed him.

Cupping her elbows, Oliver urged Felicity to stand. “Come on. You can’t stay here, sitting on the cold tile.”

Felicity allowed Oliver to pull her to her feet and lead her back into his office. She stumbled a little at the threshold and it was enough for him to give into the impulse to sweep her into his arms.

Even though it was probably the last thing Felicity wanted right then.

Oliver couldn’t bring himself to look at her and see the discomfort in her eyes. The pain. The possible rejection. 

As quickly as he could manage, Oliver placed Felicity on the couch and, tucking the blanket around her, he paced back to the other side of the room. 

He couldn’t stand to touch her knowing she didn’t want his touch.

“You must be dehydrated,” he muttered, going straight to the small refrigerator hidden in the wall cabinets. Oliver’s own mouth felt like cotton, though that was at least half the fact that he couldn’t stop seeing Felicity, trembling in the corner, looking more fragile than he’d ever seen her. “I have electrolyte water, carbonated water, vitamin water…Thea has Diet Coke, but I can’t imagine that would be a good idea considering…”

God, he was a fool.

Felicity hadn’t answered. Oliver glanced up to find she had resumed her knees to the chest position, only this time she was tented in light green, a fistful of blanket pressed to her lips. 

Her wide wet eyes stared at him.

Shit.

Oliver grabbed two bottles and hurried back over. He needed to get out of his fucking head and do something. Fix this for her.

Get Felicity to the hospital, maybe.

“You still like the dragon fruit flavor?” was the idiotic thing Oliver said, holding out the bottle and wishing he had one tenth of the suave he had been rumored to have in his youth.

Felicity lowered the blanket ball and gave Oliver a small tremulous smile, holding out her hand for the drink. It shouldn’t have made him feel as good as it did.

Out of habit, Oliver broke the seal before handing it over and was heartened by the amusement he saw flash in her eyes.

Oliver chugged half of his own water while Felicity sipped hers. It did little to refresh him. 

Now what? Oliver might be slightly less panicked that Felicity was going to disappear from his life and never look back but he wasn’t finding a lot of reasons to be hopeful either.

But the most important thing was that Felicity was obviously not okay. That was what he needed to focus on. Though how the hell he was going to help, Oliver had no idea. The only problems he was good at fixing involved projectiles and explosives.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Oliver offered, because it was the only thing he could think of. Even if he was terrified of whatever a ‘talk’ might encompass. If there was one thing he was certain of at the moment, it was that whatever was going on in her head, he wasn’t going to like it.

Felicity swallowed and replaced the cap on her bottle, setting it aside. “No.”

Okay then.

It was a simple answer. One small word, but for some reason it set dread building in his gut. It doubled. Then doubled again. A restlessness infused his muscles and Oliver found himself standing and striding to the door.

He needed to _do_ something.

“I’ll get you out of here,” Oliver promised, his hands on his hips as he examined the door. This, at least, was a solvable problem. “We don’t have to wait any longer. The only question is should we risk going through the front door or should we go through the window? It’s reinforced glass, but I’m sure I can break it. I just need to—”

“Oliver.” 

Felicity’s voice was barely a whisper but it was enough to stop Oliver in his tracks. When he looked over, she was holding out her hand to him, a small but affectionate smile on her beautiful face.

There was no way in hell Oliver could, or would, deny her. He was by Felicity’s side, her hand in his in an instant. He crouched in front of her and searched her face. The pain he saw there overwhelmed everything else.

“I’m not ready to leave yet,” Felicity confessed. Her voice cracked and a tear slipped down her cheek.

Oliver would do just about anything to make the torment in her voice go away. He took both of her hands in his and promised, “Then we won’t. We’ll stay as long as you need.”

It was a small thing compared to what Oliver was prepared to give her. Especially given he would gladly shut them away in there forever.

Felicity looked at him with tenderness, and something he was scared to put into words, and squeezed his hands back. She glanced down at their entangled fingers and then back up at Oliver through her lashes. “So, I know I said I don’t _want_ to talk about it. And that’s true, _obviously_ , but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t talk about it, that I don’t _need_ to talk about it.”

Of course. He needed to watch how he worded things.

Oliver blew out a breath and shook his head, one corner of his mouth tipping up, “This whole perfect honesty thing makes communication trickier than you’d think.”

He wasn’t trying to make a joke. He wasn’t _trying_ to do anything. It just came out. But Felicity’s musical laugh did a lot to soothe Oliver’s frayed nerves (and his battered soul). Just having her near washed away the dark cloud that shrouded him while she was closeted in the bathroom. He could breathe again.

Felicity tugged on Oliver’s hands, murmuring, “Stop crouching on the floor and come up here with me.”

As if he’d refuse _that_. 

Oliver nodded and moved to sit next to her on the couch. Felicity immediately scooted closer and leaned her head on Oliver’s shoulder, so he chanced an arm around hers.

Okay, this wasn’t _so_ bad. They might not be back together but as long as Oliver hadn’t lost ground it was fine. 

Of course, there was till plenty of time for him to mess up. It was tempting to relax, allow the relief to settle in, but that wasn’t smart. The drug still seemed to be in their systems as evidenced by both the over-bloated honesty and the way his body was reacting to Felicity’s.

Though it wasn’t all that different from how Oliver’s body usually reacted to being this close to hers, especially given she was wearing nothing but _his_ blanket.

“Do you know what the worst part about this drug is?” Felicity whispered and, okay, that was a sufficient distraction. Fear was a good weapon against arousal.

Oliver gulped and managed a gruff, “What?” It was a good thing she hadn’t asked if he _wanted_ to know, because that would have been a conversation non-starter.

“That you can’t lie to yourself,” Felicity admitted, her face pressed to his shoulder and her eyes no where near Oliver’s face. “I never realized how much I lie to _myself_. And I _believed_ the lies. Isn’t that crazy? You’d think a genius would be better at sniffing out the truth in her own brain.”

It was an attempt at humor. One that fell completely flat as Oliver’s throat closed in and emotion choked him. He didn’t know what to say, what to make of this. All he managed was a hoarse, “ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ …” 

“All this time. You know the saying ‘It takes one to know one?’” Felicity shifted, lifting her face to look up at him and Oliver really didn’t like where this was going. “Do you think the reason I was so fixated with your lies, was because _I’m_ a liar?”

“ _No_.” Oliver’s answer was quick and vehement. In fact, he had trouble waiting until her words fully emerged before denying them. “You are _not_ a liar.” The very idea was ridiculous. 

Felicity’s lower lip trembled. “Then what do you call it?”

“Self-preservation.” If anyone deserved a little leeway it was Felicity.

She let out a tearful chuckle and gave Oliver a grateful smile before burying her eyes in his shoulder again and pressing a kiss to his chest.

The relief Oliver felt made him almost dizzy. Whatever horrible things were dancing in Felicity’s head, at least she wasn’t shutting herself off from him. She was _letting_ him help her.

It made it easy for Oliver to lay his cheek on Felicity’s crown and whisper, “Tell me the horrible sin you feel you’ve committed? Just remember I’ve got the market cornered on self-flagellation so…”

There was the tiniest puff of a laugh against his, before Felicity teased back, “Maybe it’s my turn. Taking turns is important.”

Tears filled Oliver’s eyes and he had trouble forming words. Because there was implication in her words. About future turns. It felt so so good, but he didn’t want to read too much into anything. Not yet.

Tomorrow wasn’t here yet. No matter what the clock said.

Oliver pressed his lips to Felicity’s temple and pulled himself together enough to say, “How about we take turns being the strong one and try to leave out the flagellation all together.”

He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t Felicity letting out a heart-wrenching sob and doubling over as if in pain.

“Hey…hey…” Oliver called out helplessly as terror shot through him and he reached for her, desperate to give any comfort he could. He was scared silly that Felicity would reject him, but he didn’t know what else to do.

Then Oliver was shocked ten times over when Felicity tossed the blanket aside and threw herself, _naked_ , into his lap, wrapping herself around him like a monkey and burying her wet face in the space between his shoulders and neck.

Felicity’s sobs were muffled against Oliver’s neck, but he could feel them and…he’d never seen her cry like this. 

Like her heart was breaking. 

Like she couldn’t stop. 

It tore him to pieces and it was all Oliver could do not to break down with her.

He felt completely helpless, but thankfully instinct took over and Oliver pulled her closer, skin to skin, and grabbed the discarded blanket. He tossed it over the both of them as he held her and rocked back and forth, whispering over and over, “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Oliver thought Felicity might call him on the hypocrisy of him saying it was ‘okay’ when his voice sounded anything but.

Instead, Felicity hiccupped and forced out, “But that’s just it, Oliver,” and fuck her voice sounded wrecked. “The biggest lie of all. I’m _not_ ‘okay’. I haven’t been ‘ _okay’_ for a long, long time.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should say sorry, so…eh…sorry.
> 
> Next week will start with a rewind of Felicity’s pov. This is _not_ me trying to lay blame for the break-up at Felicity’s feet. 
> 
> Not at ALL. 
> 
> This is Felicity being forced to actually deal with all the pain she’s been repressing for the last decade. Don’t worry, the truth will not let Oliver get away with the parts he’s caused. I really like the next chapter. I think it’s rather powerful and it got me to look at things in a new way. I hope it does with you too.
> 
> Thank you to my lovely helpers and to all those who have been supporting me through this. The epilogue still isn’t written (meh) but I’ve gotten through some edits, so that’s something.
> 
> I’ll be back next week with Chapter 10.
> 
> Happy reading!


	10. Not Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a small rewind from Felicity’s POV. This is where she’s at her rawest and most vulnerable. We’re reaching the inner layers of the onion here, people.
> 
> Read at your own risk.

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 10: Not Okay**

Felicity woke feeling warm and cozy, completely surrounded with comfort.

And pretty damn turned on. 

Her body was raring to go, despite the lethargy in Felicity’s muscles and the soreness between her thighs. She must have had one hell of a dream.

She should really wake up Oliver to take care of this for her. Felicity wriggled closer and found his morning erection warm against her belly. Convenient. 

Now the only issue was waking him, but that involved moving and who wanted to do that?

There was really no better pillow than Oliver’s muscles, all relaxed and warm. His even breathing and heartbeat were possibly the most soothing things in the entire world. Felicity considered letting herself fall back to sleep. 

Was there anything they had to do? There couldn’t possibly be anything pressing when she felt this safe, wedged between Oliver and the back of the sofa—

Why were they on the sofa?

Why was she asleep, on the sofa with _Oliver_?

_Naked_.

Holy frak!

Felicity’s eyes snapped open and the last twenty-four hours flooded back. 

But mostly just the last four or five.

At least she thought it had only been a few hours.

Actually, Felicity had _no idea_ how long it had been since they had been gassed with Sex Pollen a la Truth in the Ballroom at City Hall, but it was still dark out so she couldn’t have been asleep long.

And judging by the ache between her thighs, the Pollen was far from worn off. 

Of course, the thousand images barraging her wasn’t helping.

Sensual images. Karnal. Intimate. Pornographic and tender. A kaleidoscope that was enough to have Felicity gasping with desire. 

_Again_.

And then there was Oliver. The way he’d looked at her. The things he’d said. The truths he’d confessed.

The tidal wave of emotion that flooded Felicity along with the memories was as intense as it was frightening. But maybe it was frightening _because_ of the intensity. 

And because of the spectrum. 

Pain and euphoria. Possessiveness and profound relief. Love.

God, so much love.

There was no point pretending anything different. The Pollen wouldn’t allow her to lie to herself about the little things, there was no way it was going to let Felicity brush aside the depth of emotion she felt for Oliver.

Not that she hadn’t known she still loved him. Even Felicity wasn’t _that_ good at lying to herself. But she’d fooled herself into thinking she was _starting_ to get past it, move _toward_ not being _in_ love with him.

Ha! What a joke!

Then Felicity remembered everything _she_ ’d said. Everything she’d admitted. Everything she’d done.

She remembered that she had a boyfriend and he wasn’t the man in her arms. 

God, _Billy_.

Ugly guilt pushed to the forefront. 

Shame. 

It made Felicity sick to her stomach.

She’d never cheated on anyone before.

Felicity was a _cheater_. Never again could she say she ‘would never’.

Sure, one could argue Felicity got a pass since her boyfriend was downstairs participating in a rather rowdy orgy.

And that _did_ help settle Felicity’s stomach.

But…

Given the drugs, the sex could be forgiven. Billy’s participation in the orgy could be forgiven. Felicity having wild sex with her ex could even be forgiven.

But _this_ , what Felicity had done, was cheating.

Because _this_ had been so much more than sex. Still was. Even now she was burrowed skin to skin with Oliver, holding him and being held in a way that had nothing to do with the Sex Pollen.

The intimacy alone…it was something Felicity had never felt with Billy. Not like this. Not even close to this.

Billy Malone. 

Of course, _now_ she remembered his name. Felicity almost wished she didn’t.

And worse than anything Felicity had _done_ , was the things she had _told_ Oliver. 

It was a betrayal. 

Felicity had betrayed Billy. The kind man who had never done a thing to deserve it. And, no, sleeping with half the mayoral staff was not a reason. Not under the circumstances.

The gas absolved Billy.

It didn’t absolve Felicity. 

It might have made her tell the truth, but it didn’t make her ask Oliver the things she had. Most of what she told him, it was voluntary. The Truth Serum wasn’t allowing Felicity to pretend otherwise.

Besides, the gas hadn’t made Felicity kiss Oliver like she never wanted to stop. It hadn’t made her hold him and fall asleep in his arms like…

Like two people in love.

That’s what they were. Her and Oliver. 

Two people in love.

It wasn’t even a revelation. Despite Felicity’s dips into insecurity (and she had plenty of them), she had always been fully aware that neither of them had fully fallen out of love with the other. Though she had maybe not been aware of just _how_ deep they both still were.

That was another of the lies Felicity had told herself. Her love for Oliver hadn’t dimmed. Somehow it just kept _growing_.

Despite her boyfriend, who was the kind of boyfriend every woman wanted. Kind, generous, giving. Honest. 

Unlike his girlfriend.

Who had been hiding the fact that she was still in love with her ex-fiancé.

The man whose strong arms she was currently lying naked in, while her body craved more.

Suddenly Felicity was having a really hard time breathing.

She needed space. 

She’d already be up and pacing if she wasn’t so completely pinned. The last thing Felicity wanted was to wake Oliver.

Felicity tried to extricate herself but the more she wriggled, the tighter Oliver clung. And, damn her, she actually found it sweet.

In desperation, Felicity whispered in Oliver’s ear, “I gotta pee.”

Which was apparently true. Thank God for small blessings.

It worked. Oliver’s arm loosened enough for Felicity to slip away, though as soon as she was clear, he grew restless. “‘Licity…”

“Shhh…” Felicity stroked his face, her nails catching on the familiar stubble. Tears burned her eyes and her lungs seized. “It’s…” She wanted to say it was ‘okay,’ but she couldn’t. It would be a lie. “Shhh. Sleep, Oliver. I’m…I’m here. I’m not leaving. Sleep.”

Oliver calmed and Felicity was able to escape before the tears really started to pour. 

She found the hidden bathroom (thankfully Oliver had left the door slightly open before they fell asleep) and slipped inside, closing the door behind her. The light was dim, but it was enough. She didn’t bother looking for the switch. 

Quickly, Felicity peed and washed her hands and…now what? She wasn’t ready to go back out. She wasn’t ready to face Oliver or…anyone. She looked up and met her own eyes in the mirror.

She wasn’t ready to face herself.

And, _wow_ , this wasn’t a look Felicity had sported since…well, since her and Oliver had returned to the newly minted Star City.

The crazy hair. The bee-stung lips. Beard burn everywhere. And, God the hickeys.

This was Felicity’s sexcation look. One she had once been proud of. It reminded her of their little escape from reality. The one she had willfully (and stupidly) come back from.

Her and Oliver hadn’t had time for the kind of excess that resulted in this look after they were back in the city. And after they had broken up…

The cursed self-honesty made Felicity admit that the only time in her life that even came _close_ to this kind of passion was the early days with Cooper. Two horny teenagers intoxicated with independence and sexual awakening.

And even that paled next to what Felicity had with Oliver.

_Without_ Sex Pollen.

Actually, now that she thought about it, was the desire Felicity felt for Oliver now really _that_ different from the desire she usually felt? Maybe the drug was really _just_ a Truth Serum.

Of course, that would mean all those people downstairs secretly wanted to have an orgy.

So maybe not. 

Or maybe it was a dose thing.

Either way, Felicity stared at her naked body in the dim light, her eyes (unfortunately) adjusting all too quickly. Here she was, laid bare. Totally naked. Inside and out.

Did she like what she saw?

Felicity’s throat closed and she swallowed a sob. She flicked the water back on and splashed it on her face, leaning over the sink when she was done.

What had happened to her?

The truth was, Felicity had been spiraling for a year now. 

A year exactly. 

Oh _God_. 

365 days ago, Felicity had been unconscious in a hospital bed. Yet she was a bigger mess now than she’d been then.

She backed up until she hit the cool tile wall, then found herself sliding down until she was sitting in the corner, her legs no longer able to hold her up.

Felicity was ripe for an implosion. It was a miracle it had taken this long.

And poor Billy…how had she dragged poor Billy into this. Why? What had Felicity been thinking?

She was going to hurt him. It was inevitable. It had _always_ been inevitable. 

Felicity couldn’t even claim she hadn’t known it. She wasn’t stupid. The best she’d been able to argue was that things _might_ work out with Billy. 

And _that_ had been a lie. One she _chose_ to believe. 

Billy didn’t deserve this.

She had to end it. As soon as possible.

Felicity told Oliver she couldn’t make a decision while the Pollen was still in her system but…she couldn’t imagine a single scenario where she could in good conscious continue this charade. Continue to use him.

God, Felicity was a cheater _and_ a user.

Okay, that might be a little harsh. Felicity had _wanted_ to feel something for Billy. And she _did_ care for him. He really was so sweet. And she _hadn’t_ wanted to be in love with Oliver.

Felicity had tried so hard to fall out of love with him. God, she’d tried. Tried all the tricks. 

Cutting off all contact.

Fixating on Oliver’s faults.

Vilifying him in her head.

Ex-sex. (There were people all over the internet who swore it helped with closure. Ha! They’d never had sex with Oliver Queen).

Moving on was Felicity’s last ditch effort. That’s what Billy was. An attempt to move on. To fall _out_ of love with Oliver. 

Of all her efforts, Billy had worked the longest…no, it had _distracted_ her the longest, made her slightly less miserable the longest.

Wow. Slightly less miserable. _That_ was a ringing endorsement for a relationship.

Billy deserved so much better.

Maybe it would be okay if Felicity had been more honest with Billy, had warned him she was rebounding. Hard. That she was something less than emotionally available.

But that would have meant Felicity would have had to have been honest with herself, which…brought her full circle.

Her mother was right, Felicity was a pistachio. The kind that didn’t have an opening in the shell and required a hammer to get at the nut. And that was _before_ Oliver.

Since, Felicity was the fricken Fort Knox of emotional vaults.

And how long had she been hiding her pain behind a sunny smile? That hadn’t always been a thing. Her mom would say that Felicity had been a sullen and angry adolescent and young adult. She didn’t think she smiled for a solid year after Cooper died.

Excuse her. “Died.”

It was later, after her blond make-over, that Felicity realized how much better people responded to a smile.

Oliver responded better.

Not that it had been fake. Not at first. Not usually. Oliver made Felicity smile and that made him smile and…so on and so on.

It was after that first kiss and…the subsequent rejection that Felicity had really started to fake it. Out of pride. Self-preservation. As a way to put one foot in front of the other. 

It only got worse as time went on. Even when—

“Felicity?”

Oliver.

What…? Dear _God_ was she really sitting on the floor of the mayor’s private bathroom recounting every mistake she’d ever made? 

Felicity was doing it again. Hiding. Not behind dark clothes and sarcasm or glasses and mousy clothes. Or even a sunny smile—

“Are you okay?” Oliver was starting to sound really concerned. Which was fair. He probably should be worried given her impending nervous break-down.

But Felicity should answer Oliver’s question before he assumed she was dead or something.

“No.”

Okay. _That_ was reassuring. Damn honesty. Felicity had to laugh and it came out as a tearful mess. When had she started crying? 

“Sorry, stupid question,” Oliver muttered and Felicity laughed again. Why was he so sweet? After everything. She didn’t deserve it. “Can I come in?”

“Yes,” Felicity answered because…

Because _that_ was what she wanted. More than anything she wanted Oliver to come in and sweep her into his arms. She wanted his arms and his lips and his words, his strength, keeping her demons at bay.

His love.

Felicity wanted Oliver’s love back.

Completely and without restraint.

This wasn’t the first time since the breakup Felicity had felt this way. The need to lose herself in Oliver. But the equal and opposite _terror_ at losing herself in him always tempered the impulse. Every time.

Except, maybe, now.

So Felicity let Oliver come in, let him sweep her up in his all too capable arms. Let him wrap her in a blanket and settle her back on the couch. Let him replace her electrolytes. Let him take care of her.

When he asked her if she wanted to talk about it, Felicity gave her honest answer. 

No. 

Felicity didn’t want to talk. She wanted to hide in Oliver’s arms and never come out. Forget every stupid truth tormenting her. She wanted to run away, go back to Ivy Town. Hide her head in the sand.

But all she said was, “No.”

And that one word was enough to make Oliver fall apart.

He paced and scowled and pulled on his short hair. He offered to break unbreakable glass for her.

And suddenly Felicity saw it all so clearly. She had the ability to break him. As completely as he had the ability to break her and if he went out there like this, if she didn’t fix this…

It was just a matter of time before it was one suicide mission to many.

“Oliver.” 

He turned to her. Felicity held out her hand and he took it. 

Oliver came to her and gave her beautiful promises and she realized everything she had done to protect herself from the pain of losing him had been a waste of time. Because even with these months apart if she lost him now, if he died…

It would be too much to bare.

Felicity had been lying to herself. Telling herself keeping her distance would make a difference but…

Lies. All lies.

That was how Felicity wound up throwing herself at Oliver, ugly crying into his shoulder, covering him with tears and snot, buck naked and not even caring. She was utterly vulnerable. All defenses had been…blown to smithereens. 

And Oliver rocked her, caressed her back, and held her and was nothing short of perfect. His voice was hoarse as he murmured, “It’s okay. It’s okay,” over and over.

And she wanted to comfort him. Felicity should be the one comforting _him_.

But all she had left was the truth.

“But that’s just it, Oliver. The biggest lie of all. I’m _not_ ‘okay’. I haven’t been ‘ _okay’_ for a long, long time,” Felicity all but sobbed. 

Because she couldn’t pretend she was. Not anymore. Felicity was tired. So very tired.

Oliver froze. But just for a moment. Then he squeezed her tight and Felicity thanked God for his big body surrounding hers because she felt as if she were going to split apart in a million pieces. 

It allowed her to continue, “I’m not brave. I’m not strong.”

Oliver’s arms tightened again and he nuzzled his face against her neck. The familiar rasp of his beard grounded her. “That’s where you are wrong.”

Even though the Truth Serum told her he believed that, all Felicity could do was sob and shake her head.

“Hey, I know you don’t _feel_ strong right now,” Oliver murmured, his hands under the blanket, warming her skin. “That you don’t _feel_ brave. But that doesn’t change the person you are deep down and…maybe it’s my turn to be strong for both of us.”

The last part was hesitant. Oliver sounded so lost and unsure as he offered and…

It just made it mean so much more.

So, _of course_ , all Felicity could do was cling to him and convulse with tears. She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she had so little control over herself.

“I’m so afraid, Oliver. So afraid.” Felicity didn’t even know where she found the breath to speak, she was crying so hard. But the words seemed to want out.

Oliver’s arms seemed to expand, surround her, as if he was trying to envelop her and shield her from the world. “I’ll never let anything hurt you, you know that right?”

Felicity sobs transfigured themselves into hysterical laughter as the irony hit her, until she was curled into herself, completely gone.

“Hey. Hey…”

Oliver sounded seriously worried now and shouldn’t he be? Felicity was completely cracking up. At this rate she would wind up in the hospital after all and she was a little afraid of which ward they’d admit her to.

He pulled Felicity back until he could see her face and it physically hurt where his skin was no longer touching hers. Oliver’s large hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the never-ending tears. Because, yeah, she might be laughing but the tears hadn’t slowed.

“Felicity. I—”

“You don’t get it, Oliver,” Felicity cried, sobs and hiccupping laughter all melded together in a ridiculous mess. “I’m not afraid of anything you can put an arrow in.” 

There was a flash of hurt in Oliver’s eyes. It quickly turned to panic.

But it was too late. Felicity couldn’t stop herself from spilling this truth if she wanted to,, “I’m afraid of losing you, you idiot. My biggest fear is losing you and…” Oh God. Her voice was morphing from distraught to angry with a terrifying speed. “Of losing _myself_ in you so that when you finally leave me there’s nothing of _me_ left. Can you protect me from that, Oliver? _Can you_?”

Wow, that was her loud voice. 

Felicity was vaguely aware that she was starting to shake.

Oliver’s face had gone slack. In shock. In despair. His mouth hung open and he shook his head. “Felicity…I….”

She couldn’t stop.

“And I’m so fraking _scared_ that telling you this…that _this_ is _how_ I’ll lose you,” Felicity’s voice kept rising, the words flooding out before she had time to think. Each one making her feel more and more desperate. “Because now you’ll decide that you’re _hurting_ me. By _existing_. And then you’ll decide you need to stay away from me to protect me.”

Oliver stared at her wide-eyed. He looked like he wanted to deny it. _Desperately_. But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Because it was true.

“I _knew_ this was how I’d lose you,” Felicity accused, loud and tearful and just this side of hysterical. She was attacking him, she knew and it wasn’t fair…but maybe it was. She didn’t know any more. “Not because of some Superbad or to another woman or some top- _secret_ government agency. But because you were trying to _protect_ me. To save me, you’d destroy me. I’d lose you, like William lost you, because you left for _my own good_!”

By the time she ground to a halt, Felicity’s voice was hoarse and she realized that she had been screaming in Oliver’s face.

_Oh God._

Her hand fluttered up and covered her mouth, muffling yet another sob. Felicity half expected Oliver to run. Even though she was literally sitting on top of him. She expected him to withdraw.

But he just sat there. Taking it. Tears streaming down his face.

Felicity had never seen Oliver cry like this before and it was terrifying.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered from between her fingers.

“No…no…” Oliver repeated, sounding out of breath. As if he had been the one screaming and not her. He pulled her hands from her face as he said, “It’s okay…I’m…I’m the one who should be sorry. I…I had no idea.”

Another sharp, hysterical laugh burst from Felicity’s throat. “Neither did I.” But then she shook her head because she wasn’t sure how true that was. “I mean not fully, not nearly, but…oh God…” Realization hit her with the force of a bullet train. “God, Oliver, that’s why…”

Every time she’d lied or hid something from Oliver. Every time Felicity had waited or hesitated to tell him something…she’d thought she had such good reasons. 

But every one of them had been a lie. 

To keep herself from having to acknowledge the truth.

Because this was why. 

_This_ was why.

“All the way back to Ivytown,” Felicity murmured, not sure if she was speaking to Oliver or herself. “No, back in Bali, when I first lied about working with the team or…maybe, even earlier because…because I pretended to be okay the two times I lost you to the League. Both times after telling me you loved me. Both times you _willingly_ left. Walked away from me.” 

She wasn’t speaking to herself anymore. Now, Felicity was accusing him. And her voice was rapidly regaining that throat scratching volume. 

“I acted like I was over it. Like I was _okay_. But that was a lie. I wasn’t okay. I was pretending, like I pretended Ivy Town was enough, like I avoided taking over Palmer Tech because I didn’t want to upset our delicate balance, because I didn’t want to ever give you a reason to think I was better off without you. Because you’ve always been one thing… _one thing…_ away from leaving me. For my own good.”

It explained so much.

It explained everything and…

And as Felicity took in the devastated look on Oliver’s face, she truly understood her own motivations for the first time. 

Understood they were rational. 

That she had a good reason to be afraid.

Because the look on Oliver’s face was that of a broken man. 

This was how Felicity broke him. With the truth.

And this was how she lost him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> If there is any chapter that’s going to bring out the trolls and the haters it’s going to be this one, so I’m bracing myself.
> 
> That being said, I love this chapter so I’m standing by it. But I will say, (for anyone who cares enough to read this explanation) Felicity feeling guilty for something doesn’t mean she _is_ guilty of any wrongdoing. This is the same for Oliver. And her feeling like she did something wrong is just that, a _feeling_. Even if that _feeling_ is _her_ Truth. It doesn’t mean _I_ think she did something wrong.
> 
> If you want a fic that deals in black and white you are in the wrong place.
> 
> Now I’ll get my defensive soap box to mention that a few of my very intelligent readers were predicting Felicity would have a meltdown over Havenrock. Unfortunately, that never came up. Probably because, while I believe that does have a special home among Felicity’s demons, it isn’t amongst the Oliver/Felicity relationship baggage and they have plenty to unpack with that alone.
> 
> I did have a very productive writing weekend and it blew my chapter count out of the water, so I’m putting it back at “?”. The main story is finished. Then I added a chapter of smut because you are all horndogs and I was worried I’d get a revolt if I didn’t. I’m even considering fleshing it out (pun a little intended) and adding more smut. I’ve been working on the epilogue all weekend and it got so long it’s now two chapters. Sorry, but I love how it’s turning out so whatever.
> 
> I’m also considering adding an Afterward like the one I did for _(Don’t) Let Me Go_ , but I’m not sure how successful it was there, so I’m taking a poll on Twitter to see if people would like me to write one for this fic. Its here <https://twitter.com/Emmilynestill/status/1216375033460903939>
> 
> Or (of you’d prefer) you can leave me a comment here letting me know if you would like an Afterward and, if so, what you would want to know about the future in this little universe. It’s actually a pretty full universe in my head.
> 
> I’ll end this author’s note (before I lose you all) by thanking my lovely betas, **mariposablue9** and **Ireland1733** and all my loyal reader and commenters!
> 
> Happy reading!


	11. Her Truth.  His Truth.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 11: Her Truth. His Truth.**

Oliver had started to wonder if it was a side effect of the gas. If Felicity was experiencing a come down of some kind. 

The mood swings.

The fear.

The uncontrollable tears.

Oliver was all too aware of these sorts of things from his unfortunate experiences with Vertigo and whatnot. He’d been injected with a wide variety of crap over the years. Plus, he was aware of his _own_ emotions being over-the-top at the moment. Though not like Felicity and that was starting to concern him…

Okay, understatement of the century. 

Concern him? Felicity was scaring _the shit_ out of him. 

Oliver thought he had seen the full gamut of Felicity Smoak’s emotions. From the heights of ecstasy to the depths of grief. Terror. Rage. You name it.

But he’d never seen them _all_ in less than an hour. And this… _this_ was more. It frightened Oliver like very little did any more.

And in the end it turned out…not even a side effect of the drug. 

Well, unless Oliver considered being accosted with the _truth_ a ‘side effect’ of the gas (and he really thought it was an _intended_ affect).

Apparently, this was what happened to a person faced with their _own_ Truth. The kind buried deep. In him. In her.

Oliver couldn’t even describe how it felt to learn how badly he’d hurt her. 

He had hurt _Felicity_. 

The love of his worthless life.

And the worst part, Oliver was pretty damn sure they had only just begun to scrape the surface. It was becoming clear Felicity had been hiding her hurt for years. Fucking _years_. 

Throughout the best and most significant relationship of Oliver’s life.

To protect herself. 

_From him_.

And Oliver had no one to blame but himself.

When Felicity finished her…Oliver didn’t even know what to call it. Confession? Indictment?

She stared at him with wide-eyes and…he could see her fear. 

Oliver wanted to make it go away. He wanted her to feel safe and secure. He wanted to _make_ her feel safe and secure.

But how could he when he was the cause of it all?

In the end, Oliver couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He knew he couldn’t fix it. The damage was too deep.

But Felicity deserved an apology at the _very least_. It was inadequate, but at the _minimum_ Oliver could say, ‘I’m sorry.’

Except he couldn’t.

Oliver couldn’t seem to make his voice work.

He had never felt so incompetent in his life. And that was saying something, considering Oliver had spent a large part of his life wallowing in incompetence. 

Felicity bit her lip and Oliver shook his head…he needed to _do something_. She was in pain. He couldn’t just _sit_ there… 

Gathering the blanket in her trembling hands, Felicity climbed off of Oliver’s lap and wrapped it tightly around herself. Then settled on the other end of the couch.

In a ball. Facing _away_ from Oliver.

The tears wouldn’t stop.

_Oliver’s_ tears.

He’d never cried like this. Not as a child and _certainly_ not as an adult. Oliver had never had so little control over his emotions.

He’d lost two parents and God only knew how many people he loved. What was a little heart break compared to that?

But this wasn’t just about Felicity rejecting him…and she _was_ rejecting him…it was about the pain he’d caused her. It was about how thoroughly Oliver had failed.

_And_ about Felicity rejecting him. For keeps this time.

It hurt so much worse when it was his soulmate.

Whoa. Where the hell had _that_ word come from? Oliver had never—

“You can go. I know you want to,” Felicity whispered and even though it was muffled and directed _away_ from him the words rang out in the quiet room.

And she had never been more wrong.

The last thing he wanted was to leave her. Ever. 

It gave Oliver the strength to speak, “Felicity—”

“You hurt me. You’ll never deserve me,” Felicity recited in a dead mono-tone. “I’ll never be able to convince you otherwise, so just go.”

Every word was a knife to Oliver’s chest, each one pushing in a little deeper and a little harder.

But through the pain he heard her words and her tone and watched her body language and…

Oliver understood,

Felicity didn’t _want_ him to leave.

By some miracle, despite _everything_ , she wanted Oliver to believe he deserved her. 

How could that be?

“Put us both out of our misery. Get on with it. Leave.” Felicity’s voice wasn’t flat any longer. It shook. 

With anger and pain. 

The first Oliver deserved, but the second…

He needed to _do_ something.

“I’m fine, _just_ —”

“Felicity, I’m not leaving you.”

Once the words left his mouth, Oliver felt an intense wave of relief. Not only because he knew Felicity needed to hear it, but because saying it meant…

It meant it was _true_.

Oliver wasn’t going to leave Felicity.

He _wasn’t_.

He knew it in his bones.

_His_ Truth.

And it gave Oliver strength.

“You said it yourself, you could break the window,” Felicity droned on, the only evidence she’d heard him the slight hesitancy in her voice, the increased tension in her shoulders. “Or brave the—”

“ _Felicity_ ,” Oliver interrupted, more firmly this time, reaching out to touch her back with the lightest of touches, relieved that she didn’t flinch. When she turned her head instead, glancing over her shoulder, he moved his fingers to her wet cheek. “I am _never_ going to leave you. Not now. Not ever.”

The words calmed him, filled him with certainty. 

Oliver’s eyes dried.

He could make this better.

He could make this better and maybe, if he was lucky, Oliver might even have a chance at what _he wanted_. 

But Felicity shook her head, her eyes unfocused. “You can’t know that.”

“Apparently, I can,” Oliver was able to say with something resembling lightness in his tone, “since I can’t tell a lie.”

From over her shoulder Oliver watched Felicity’s face crinkle up, as if a part of her wanted to smile, but an even bigger part refused to allow it. The process looked painful.

“Hey,” Oliver wanted to move in front of her, to see her face. To make her look at him. But it had to be her choice to face him. He laid two fingers on her knee, a touch she could easily evade, and asked, “Please, look at me.”

With something that could only be described as a long-suffering sigh, Felicity turned on the couch. But she kept her legs pulled to her chest. A shield.

The turning itself could have been considered a win, _should_ have been, but her hesitance hurt him. The fear and devastation on her face, the distrust…that made it hard for Oliver to breathe.

Reminding himself the worst thing he could do right then was retreat, Oliver took her hand. Felicity allowed it, she let him curl his fingers around hers, but she still wouldn’t look in his eyes. 

Dipping his head until it was even with hers, as if the force of his gaze alone would compel her to look at him, Oliver said, “There are only two forces in existence that can make me leave you.” 

He waited, watched Felicity pull in a breath and hold it, her lips pressed so tightly together they turned white around the edges. 

“Death and… _you_ ,” Oliver’s voice broke and her face crumbled.

Felicity reached out with her free hand, blindly, like a drowning person looking for purchase.

Oliver caught it. “And death, I’ll fight like hell.”

“Promise,” Felicity demanded through her tears, squeezing both his hands almost painfully tight. “ _Swear to me_ you’ll fight like hell.”

“I swear.” It was a surprisingly easy promise considering it had been less than an hour since Oliver was planning a young death for himself.

But if that would hurt Felicity, he wouldn’t do it. Oliver would fight to stay on this earth even if it was pure agony.

Felicity nodded, a determined set to her chin. She cleared her throat. “Then all I have to worry about is myself.”

Shit.

Of course, in this state, Felicity would take this all wrong.

Oliver gathered up her hands and pressed them to his lips. “That’s not what I meant. There’s nothing you could do to make me leave, _except_ ask me to. I won’t force myself on you. I won’t stay if you tell me to go. I _respect_ you too much _._ Your life, your choice works this way too. You decide… _you decide_ you don’t want this worthless ass in your life any more, I’ll leave. It will hurt like hell,” understatement of the century, “but I’ll leave.”

Felicity’s eyes were glued to Oliver’s face now, intense and solemn as she took in every nuance of his expression. Then she whispered, “Is that why you didn’t try to stop me when I left?”

And that knocked Oliver for a loop.

“Was I supposed to? Was I _allowed_ to?” Oliver hadn’t felt like he’d had the right. Though when he thought about in now, all he could remember feeling was defeated. 

Felicity shrugged and it wasn’t much of an answer. Her expression was difficult to interpret. 

It didn’t help the rising anxiety in Oliver’s gut. That I-fucked-up-and-I-don’t-even-know-how feeling.

“Did you _want_ me to fight for us?” Oliver asked, trying to keep his voice low, to not sound demanding for all his need to know. “Because that was what I _tried_ to do with that whole Cupid/wedding thing and that was an unmitigated disaster.”

Finally, Felicity let out a huff that might have been a laugh and agreed, “Unmitigated.” 

“Felicity, did you _want_ me to do more?” Had there been a chance Oliver missed? Could she have thought he didn’t care enough, had’t wanted her enough to fight for her? Because that thought was _insane_.

All Felicity did was shrug. Again. 

But this time, Oliver recognized it for what it was. Not evasion. Internal conflict. 

He squeezed her hands in support and Felicity confessed, “I don’t know what I wanted.” Her head fell against the couch. As if it was too heavy to keep up. She laid her cheek on the soft leather, but her eyes stayed on his face. “I was such a mess.” She let out another of those soft self-reproaching chuckles. “Still am.”

As little as Oliver liked the things Felicity was saying, her body language was much more open and he no longer felt like vomiting. That was movement in the right direction, wasn’t it? 

Swallowing, Oliver mirrored her, laying his cheek on the sofa so he could more easily meet her eyes, and prompted, “Not okay?”

Felicity nodded, a tiny whimper escaping. “Really not.”

“And it’s all my fault.” Oliver tried to keep his voice even and matter-of-fact. Because it was. A fact.

“Really not,” Felicity repeated and Oliver raised his eyebrow in question. As much as he wanted that to be true, she must have found a Truth Serum loophole. Because it clearly was. “Not _all_ your fault.”

Oliver couldn’t help grin a little. 

There it was. The loophole.

“A little bit your fault,” Felicity clarified, showing him a small space between her thumb and forefinger, the side of her mouth quirking up.

Oliver smiled. It still stung, but partial exoneration was pretty good, all things considered. 

Taking a deep breath, Oliver asked for something neither of them wanted, but both of them needed, “Tell me. Everything you didn’t tell me then. All the ways I hurt you. All the ways the world hurt you but you didn’t want me to know about. Tell me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Because they both needed Felicity to get it out. But more importantly they both needed him to stay after.

Oliver reached out to brushed the hair from her face as Felicity chewed on her lower lip. He fought the urge to free the abused flesh from her teeth. 

“I know you mean that,” Felicity finally whispered. “I’m just having a hard time believing it will stick.”

Another potential loophole. 

“ _Felicity_ …” God, now what? “All I have is my word. It isn’t worth much, I know. But if you give me the chance, I’ll prove it to you.”

Wasn’t that the whole point? 

“You’ve already left,” Felicity murmured, her eyes drifting, her voice so tragically sad Oliver couldn’t find the breath to deny it. “Every man I’ve ever loved left. My dad. Cooper. You.”

Oliver shook his head. It wasn’t true. “I didn’t—”

“Three times.” Felicity’s eyes flew back to his and they cut him deep. “ _Three times_ you left me. You should have been out, but I was never good with sports…” She squeezed her eyes shut and tears leaked around the edges.

Felicity must be talking about Nanda Parbat, but she had to _know_ Oliver hadn’t wanted to…

“One,” she held up a finger, “you went and got yourself killed on a mountain. _Two_ ,” another finger, “you traded your life for Thea’s to Ra’s Al Ghul and…” When the third finger went up Felicity’s voice gave out and she had to force the words out around a sob, “Darhk…when I was shot…”

Oh _God_.

Ra’s’ sword hadn’t hurt like this. And Oliver had known he was losing Felicity then too. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he babbled. Oliver was crying again but he was too busy wiping away Felicity’s tears to bother with his. “I failed you. I should have protected you but—”

“That’s not it.” Felicity’s eyes were closed and she was shaking her head so hard her tears went flying. “That wasn’t your fault. I don’t…I could never blame you for me getting shot. Though I can’t say getting shot wasn’t what started my whole _not-okay_ downward spiral. But that wasn’t…”

Felicity’s eyes opened and the look she fixed Oliver with was somehow accusing and apologetic at the same time. 

God, he loved her.

“You weren’t there, Oliver. When I woke up in the hospital. _Fifteen times_ I woke up. I counted. You. Weren’t. There.” 

Oliver’s lungs seized up. He stopped breathing. Maybe his heart stopped too. 

The guilt. The shame. He deserved all of it. More.

“Fifteen times that I was with it enough to count. Though, to be fair, you tend to sleep in short bursts in the hospital.” Felicity’s voice was soft and even, Oliver wondered if it would be better if she yelled.

“ _Felicity_ …” It came out as a sob. 

If she noticed she didn’t show it. Felicity kept going. “The first time I was so scared. All I could think was, if you weren’t there you must have been shot, that you had died in the shoot out.”

_Jesus_.

“I wanted to die too.”

Oliver held his stomach, wanting to double over with the pain, but her eyes held him, trapped.

“But Thea was there. And Laurel. And John. They all said you would be there soon. You weren’t.”

If Oliver could have gone back in time, he would have beat the shit out of the idiot he was just one year ago.

“Then I realized I couldn’t move my legs. Or feel them. And…” Felicity held Oliver’s eyes throughout all of it and it was the bravest thing he’d ever seen. “It was terrifying. And all I wanted was you. I had my mother and John and Curtis, but I wanted _you_. The only one who could make me feel safe—”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Oliver sobbed. He wanted to let Felicity finished. She needed to finish. Deserved to finish. She needed to get it all out there but he didn’t know if he could stand another word. “I’m so _so_ sorry.”

Maybe Felicity realized he wasn’t going to be able to stop, because she spoke right over him. “So I thought, of course, he isn’t here. Oliver Queen could have any woman on the planet, why would he want a broken freak in a wheelchair—?”

“No! Felicity, _no_. God, _no_.” Oliver cried, cupping her face, making sure she was paying attention this time, not lost in her own pain. “That never, _ever_ crossed my mind!”

Felicity’s breath hitched and her voice was barely audible as she asked, “Did it cross your mind that it was your fault I was shot and that you shouldn’t be anywhere near me?”

“Yes,” Oliver confessed since he had no choice. “But that wasn’t why I wasn’t there. And it wasn’t because I didn’t want to be with you.” _Christ_. He swiped at his face so he could fucking see. “I was there when you got to the hospital. During the first two surgeries. I was there when they pulled the tube out, not sure if you were going to be able to breathe on your own…”

Sobs wracked Oliver’s body and he paused because his lungs wouldn’t let him continue until some of them were let out.

“But I couldn’t face you,” Oliver told her when he could, the world was blurry again but he could tell Felicity was listening intently. “I was a coward and I couldn’t face you when I had failed you so utterly. All I could think to do was get Darhk off the board first. How could I face you when he had gotten away with hurting you so _badly_?”

“You wanted to bring me his head on a stake,” Felicity murmured and then by some miracle she smiled.

Oliver nodded. “Metaphorically, yeah. But all you wanted was your fiancée by your side.” He closed his eyes as that realization solidified. He opened them because he didn’t deserve to hide and saw Felicity nod. “How could I be so stupid? Why couldn’t I have gotten _over myself_ and my needs to think about what you needed? As if _revenge_ was what you wanted!”

The anger Oliver felt at himself was mounting, starting to suffocate him.

Until Felicity cut through it with, “I wouldn’t have said _no_ to Darhk’s head on a stake.”

She smiled and Oliver found himself laughing. He supposed that was what happened when so many intense emotions broke free. He lost his god damn mind.

But Felicity lowered her legs, tucking them under her and scooting the tiniest bit closer as she added gently, “I just wanted you more.”

“I’m _so_ sorry. That’s incredibly inadequate but, _please_ , I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I was a terrible boyfriend…fiancé.”

This time Felicity snorted. “As if I was… _am_ much better.”

The ‘am’ caught Oliver in the chest. Was she referring to the current relationship? The one _not_ with him? The thought made him sick, but still he argued. “You were. _Are_.”

Felicity’s eyes drifted away, staring at something over Oliver’s shoulder, some imaginary shadow in the dark corner of his office. “How were you supposed to know I was upset when I didn’t tell you? I don’t expect you to read my mind. I was working really hard to keep anyone from guessing I was anything less than okay.”

“I should have realized you were pretending, seen beyond what I wanted to see.” Beyond his own self-centered pain.

“If I had known you were afraid I wasn’t coming back…”

He had abandoned her. _Abandoned_ her. God, how had Oliver not realized that Felicity had fears of abandonment? It should have been so obvious.

Felicity nodded, giving a shrug Oliver didn’t like one bit. It put far too little worth on her feelings. “When you did show up, I was so relieved. I didn’t think I could do it, survive the whole not walking thing, without you.”

“You could have,” Oliver argued and Felicity’s eyes flew back to his. “But you will _never_ have to. Not while I’m alive.”

“And you promised you’d stay that way,” Felicity reminded him, suddenly fierce again as she poked him in the chest. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that.’

Oliver had to smile. There was his girl. “I never will. I’ll fight like hell to stay alive. To stay with you.” He added the last part softly, not knowing if it was over-stepping. 

They were talking things through, clearing the air. And he was grateful. But that didn’t mean Felicity was agreeing to give him another chance.

Yet, Felicity gave him a satisfied sigh and a small smile, settling back in snuggling into the back of the sofa. “Then I don’t have anything to worry about,” she repeated. Without the caveat this time.

The victory was short lived though, because Felicity swallowed and another confession tumbled out, “I never told you. When you brought me home from the hospital, I was hallucinating. From the pain pills I assume. That’s why I was so erratic. So you see, I’m far from blameless and I…I was falling apart, Oliver. You were all that was holding me together.”

While Oliver had a hard time believing that, he…Felicity had been hallucinating and had never told him? He couldn’t imagine why…

Yes, he could. Felicity had just told him. Her reason for keeping that to herself was the same as all the others. She didn’t think she could be anything less than okay. Not because of pride, but out of fear. That Oliver couldn’t handle it. That it would send him running.

“I need you to know, despite any thing I’ve done in the past to imply otherwise, you never need to be okay for me,” Oliver tried to assure. It didn’t feel like enough but he had to try. “I never wanted the perfect woman. I want you.”

It wasn’t until Felicity gave a teary laugh and said, “But you always said I was perfect,” that he realized how wrong that came out.

“Because you are,” Oliver insisted, automatically, without thought. He ignored how he had just contradicted himself. It didn’t feel like a contradiction.

“After everything I just said?” Felicity gaped, incredulous.

“Yes.” 

There was no other answer.

Rolling her eyes, Felicity sighed. But it was so normal it made him relax a little. “Oliver, it wasn’t you that made me feel like I needed to pretend to be okay. That was me and my stupid fears. After you _finally_ ,” she flashed him a teasing grin, “showed up at the hospital, you were nothing short of wonderful. You said and did all the right things. Well, except that you didn’t tell me about your secret son.”

Felicity’s smile said she was joking, but Oliver was finally connecting the dots. 

“But it wasn’t the secrets that made you walk, was it?” he asked, feeling out of breath with the power of the realization. “It was that I sent William away? Like you always feared I would with you?”

Her face crumpling, Felicity nodded. 

“ _Christ_.” Oliver scrubbed his face. 

How had he not realized? Of course, Felicity, abandoned by her own father wouldn’t be okay with her future husband not being there for his own child…

Oliver’s heart raced. “Do you think it was a mistake?” he asked, somewhat desperately. “Sending William away? Do you think he thinks…that I don’t love him?”

Just the thought of it was horrible and Felicity’s eyes were sympathetic, but all she said was a quiet, “I don’t know.”

Because she couldn’t tell a lie. And there was no way to reassure Oliver without one.

Collapsing back onto the couch, Oliver’s eyes found the ceiling. “Me neither.” He let out a dark sounding laugh. “I swear half the time I don’t think I know _anything_.”

Felicity laughed and this time she actually sounded amused. “Who would have guessed? Doused with Truth Serum and all we can come up with is ‘I don’t know.’”

Oliver’s lip quirked up. “Me. Well, that _I_ don’t have a clue. That you don’t is a shocker.”

Felicity’s laugh was soft but musical and it was a balm to his system, washing away his guilt and pain. Bit by bit. It helped that she snuggled into the couch edging closer. “The truth part of this Sex Pollen is the absolute worst.”

It was her use of the phrase ‘Sex Pollen’ that had Oliver grinning, but he didn’t know why he added, “I kind of like it.”

“Seriously?” Felicity gasped, jerking up to a sitting position she was so surprised. 

Not that Oliver could blame her.

He shrugged and gnawed on his lip. “Don’t get me wrong. It hurts like hell. But its kinda like cleaning a wound, the process sucks but afterward it’s a relief. Better than when you started.”

“ _Wow_.”

Oliver rolled his head to find Felicity’s eyes had finally dried. He smiled at her.

“I think I’m going to have to change my assessment of this drug if it can make Oliver Queen decide telling the truth can actually heal old wounds,” Felicity breathed, the wonder in her voice a thing to behold. 

Smiling, feeling a little like he was falling into Felicity’s eyes, Oliver murmured, “Who’d a thought?”

“Not me.” Then Felicity smiled that bright, playful smile he’d fallen in love with, her tongue pressing to her top teeth. “They should market this stuff to Shrinks. So much more efficient then spending weeks in therapy trying to get someone to open up.”

Oliver grunted. “I’d take this over that prolonged agony any day.”

Felicity laughed again and Oliver was quickly getting addicted to the sound. “Tell me how you really feel,” she joked.

Hope started to swell again, making him reckless. Oliver edged closer and his heart flipped over when Felicity did the same, until they were only an inch apart.

“Anything,” Oliver offered. Promised, really. “I’ll tell you _anything_.”

Felicity’s eyes widened and any sign of jest left her, leaving a weighty sober expression as she searched Oliver’s face, lingering on his lips before flicking back to his eyes and closing that inch between them and brushing his lips with hers.

Oliver held his breath. His eyes fluttered closed as one soft brush became another and then…he kissed her back. Gently, careful to follow Felicity’s lead and trying to not pay too much attention to his heart roaring in his ears.

It reminded Oliver of a first kiss. But not at all, because no first kiss had ever held the depth of emotion that this one did. Not even theirs.

It was slow and savoring. For long minutes it was lips only, until Oliver’s hand came up to lightly stroke her cheek.

Humming, Felicity’s lips left his as she leaned into his touch, nuzzling her face into Oliver’s palm. “Maybe Sex Pollen isn’t so bad.” 

She shifted closer, turning to fit her entire body under his chin. Oliver chuckled, but really, he was having a hard time thinking about anything other than how perfectly her body fit against his.

Then Felicity abruptly pulled back, just enough to meet Oliver’s eyes and declare, “But we’re still going to find whoever did this and hand them their ass, right?”

His chuckle became a full out laugh. “Oh yes.”

Felicity flashed him a grin before fitting her head back under his chin and snuggling in.

It was too perfect for words.

Oliver dropped a kiss on top of her sweet-smelling hair and wrapped his arms around her. He could breathe again. “Though, I might have to thank them. _After_ they’re safely behind bars.”

Her soft laughter rumbled against Oliver’s chest. “Well, it was some pretty awesome sex,” Felicity teased, the hand on his chest becoming less about giving and seeking comfort and more… _more_.

There was no way Felicity couldn’t feel the erection trapped in his boxer briefs, pressed against him as she was. He didn’t even know how long it had been like that. Oliver was getting really good at ignoring his cock.

“We don’t need a drug to have great sex,” Oliver reminded her, his voice lowering automatically.

Felicity’s husky chuckle warmed Oliver to his core. From his cock to his heart and back again. 

“Truth,” she hummed.

That feeling was building again. The one Oliver had missed so much. Hope. No, more than hope.

Home.

Swallowing, Oliver confessed, “I would thank them for giving me the opportunity to tell you all the things I’ve wanted you to know but didn’t know how to say. In a way where you can be completely confident that it’s nothing but the truth.”

“Oliver?” Felicity tipped up her head to look at him, a tiny frown between her eyes. “I _do_ trust you.”

His eyes burned, but Oliver refused to start crying again. It was getting ridiculous. He nodded solemnly. “But this way there won’t be any doubt.”

Felicity reached up and ran her thumb over Oliver’s bottom lip. “I don’t doubt the things you say. It’s the things you don’t that bother me.”

Staring down into her eyes, all blue right then, Oliver made a decision. Then he forced himself to think it over again. Fully. This wasn’t something offered lightly. Or impulsively.

“Well, here’s your chance,” Oliver told her once he was completely sure. “Anything you want to know, all you need to do is ask.”

Felicity’s eyes slowly widened, her brow crinkling. “Anything? Are you serious?”

Oliver gave her one determined nod, refusing to be swayed by the nerves acting up in the pit of his stomach. What had holding back ever gotten him?

“From now on, I have no secrets from you, Felicity. Only things I haven’t gotten around to telling you. So…anything. All you have to do is ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all of you still reading and supporting this story and the fandom in general given what is happening on the CW. I know many of you are heartbroken. Remember the characters belong to all of us now. We might not be able to make money off of them, but we can do with them what we want. 😉
> 
> I hope to see you all next Sunday.
> 
> PS. I skipped the comments on chapter 9 to go straight to 10, but I'm going back to them. Promise.


	12. Game of Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 12: Game of Truths**

“From now on, I have no secrets from you, Felicity. Only things I haven’t gotten around to telling you. So…anything. All you have to do is ask.”

Felicity didn’t know what to say. She was still processing the whole I’ll-never-leave-you, I’ll-try-not-to-die, honesty-is-healing thing.

So more than _one_ thing. A whole lot of very _big_ things. It was enough to blow her mind.

It was so spot on, almost word for word, from Felicity’s daydreams she had to question wether it was a dream…or more likely, a drug-induced hallucination. 

It was only the (intimate) knowledge that drug-induced delirium dreams were never this pleasant that kept her from doubting. That, and as Oliver said, hallucinations were so rarely multi-sensory. And this most definitely was. _All_ sensory.

It was like Felicity had been offered the Keys to the Kingdom, access to the Restricted Section of the library, and a personal tour of Area 51 all at once.

And Felicity had no idea where to look first.

Or even if she wanted to.

“Your five years away and… _anything_?” Felicity blinked at him. Did Oliver even understand what he was offering?

“All of it,” Oliver confirmed, looking surprisingly certain. “After. Before. All the shameful moments—huh…” He tilted his head and Felicity could see the gears turning. “Actually, I think I’m more ashamed of my behavior _before_ the island.”

Oliver’s brow creased and Felicity gave in to the impulse to run her fingers over it. She knew he was trying to wrap his head around this. “Hadn’t realized that one, huh?” By now, the signs of Truth Gas revealing a Self-Truth wasn’t hard to spot.

“No…but, uh…” Oliver dragged his eyes back to hers. “I hadn’t killed before the Queen’s Gambit but,” he let out that dark sort-of chuckle, “at least after the shipwreck I had an excuse for my behavior, extenuating circumstances or whatever. Before I had every advantage.”

“If you call the burden of running an empire you didn’t want and parents too busy cheating on each other to parent as an advantage.”

 _Shit_.

Felicity clapped her hands over her mouth, one over the other. Frak. Frak. Frak. She had _not_ meant to say that out loud.

Luckily, Oliver didn’t look that shocked. In fact, he just chuckled and looked at Felicity with affection bright in his eyes. He could be such a weird man.

Even so, Felicity lowered her hands just enough to say, “I’m sorry, Oliver. I shouldn’t have said that. I know you loved them.” Then she hastened to add, “and they loved _you_. Clearly, they did.”

It was possibly the only good thing Felicity could say about Moira Queen. She loved her children. To a _fault_.

Oliver gave Felicity that soft adoring look she had so missed (though it was a seriously odd reaction). “Felicity, hon, I am aware that my parents weren’t the most… _moral_ people. They certainly weren’t any kind of role-model for the partner I want to be.”

Oh _God_ , she loved him.

“And it’s not news that you weren’t a huge Moira Queen fan,” Oliver chuckled.

“She wasn’t a fan of _mine_ ,” Felicity blurted. Then she winced. How come _that_ came out without permission, but she was able to keep the ‘I love you’ in her head? It made no sense.

Oliver stroked her cheek with his thumb and gave her a sad smile. “That’s only because she never had the pleasure of getting to know you.”

Felicity wasn’t so sure about that but she kissed Oliver’s thumb in thanks just because. Either way the sentiment was very appreciated.

“And I know you kept your feelings about her to yourself for my and Thea’s sake. Which I thank you for,” Oliver murmured. Then his eyes crinkled in amusement. “See, you weren’t as good a liar as you thought you were.”

Felicity laughed, though there was an undercurrent of tears. She was getting good at laughing and crying at the same time. She wondered if that was a skill she could put on her resume. 

“Well, your parents couldn’t have been too bad,” Felicity teased, trying to even out her voice as she traced patterns over Oliver’s heart, “Both you and Thea turned out pretty fantastic.”

She got a kiss for that one and it was rather awesome. Felicity was 90% sure that ten minutes ago, Oliver wouldn’t have felt confident in initiating that kind of contact. 

But he should be. Confident. There was nothing left for Oliver to feel insecure about. 

Of course, there was still the little matter of the boyfriend downstairs and while Felicity’s guilt over that situation was unlikely to fade any time soon, there was nothing that could be done about it now. Her decision was made, all she could do now was resolve it as soon as she had the chance.

Which was not now. 

So kissing. God, Felicity loved kissing Oliver. It really was her favorite thing.

In fact, it didn’t take long for Felicity to seriously consider taking a pass on the whole Keys to the Kingdom thing. The Truth Gas might be able to take credit for saving their relationship and their mental health, but the Sex part of the Sex Pollen was so much more fun. 

And fun was something neither of them had had in a very long time.

But Oliver ended the kiss, sitting back, signaling he wasn’t in any hurry to get back to sexy times. Felicity would have wondered if the Sex Pollen had worn off completely if it wasn’t for his very obvious erection. She supposed she should be grateful that the effects were no longer an irritating, mind-fogging itch. That they could think clearly and have a conversation.

Yup, she should. The Truth Gas wasn’t going to let Felicity _believe it_ , but she should be.

“So what will it be?” Oliver asked with a soft smile. “Hong Kong? Russia? Lian Yu part one or two? Or the adventures of Ollie the douchebag.”

His intention seemed to be to make Felicity laugh and he succeeded, though it did nothing to hide Oliver’s underlying anxiety. She could see his thumb rubbing against his forefingers.

But the thing that struck Felicity as she considered his offer was how much she already knew about Oliver’s life. More than anyone else she was certain, possibly by double. She knew the origin of every tattoo and scar, had held his hand while he had the dragon on his back removed. 

It was so odd, but in that moment Felicity couldn’t think of a single burning question. Everything that had been haunting her had been asked hours ago, any question of trust and respect, about what she had and did mean to Oliver, about his actions surrounding William, about his impulses to leave…they’d been asked and answered.

In a surprisingly satisfying way.

And the last thing Felicity wanted to do after the emotional quagmire they had just roller-coastered through was hear another angsty story about torture and death. She could ask for a fun story from Oliver’s childhood but…that wasn’t really a secret. She was pretty sure Oliver would have answered that sort of question at any time.

“Why Susan Williams?” Felicity asked impulsively, as soon as it popped into her mind. But she found she didn’t regret it. It bothered her that she had gaps in her Oliver-knowledge from the last few months. It was something that needed to be corrected.

Oliver reared back, just a bit, not looking upset but clearly surprised. “ _That’s_ how you want to use your question?”

“Whoa! Who said I only had _one_? You never said there was a _limit_ on how many questions.” Felicity’d had trouble coming up with _one_ question but that wasn’t the point. “No changing the rules now.”

A smile spread and Oliver lifted his hands in surrender. “No. You are correct, there are no question limits. I just thought…I have years of bad behavior, a secret past I still have people calling and trying to get the rights to, and you want to know about my _date_?”

Felicity shrugged. “All that was before. Pre-island. Pre-vigilante. That wasn’t _my_ Oliver so what do I care what he did?”

Oliver got that sappy-sweet look on his face, and Felicity _again_ got the urge to skip the talking part, but then he said, “Okay, fine. So…why did I ask Susan to come with me tonight?”

“I was thinking, ‘Why her?’ In a broader sense, but sure, start with that?”

“I’m not sure there is much of a ‘broader-sense’,” Oliver said and Felicity had to say it was a damn good answer. “Susan was…there.” He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “She was nice to me. I was lonely. I wanted someone to distract me during this stupid party since it wouldn’t do for the mayor to mope and stare starry-eyed at his ex all night, while shooting daggers at her boyfriend.”

Felicity laughed. She probably shouldn’t have, but she did. “Why do I think that last sentence came directly from Thea’s mouth?”

One side of Oliver’s mouth tipped up. “Not really. Thea would have preferred I pine for you rather than go anywhere with Susan.”

“So why didn’t you pick someone else?” Someone who hadn’t betrayed his sister on main-stream media. It wasn’t like there was any shortage of women willing to date ‘Mayor Handsome.’

Opening his mouth and closing it again, Oliver shook his head, seeming at a loss. “Who?”

And Felicity had no doubt that he genuinely had no idea there were other options. As if a line wouldn’t start forming around the block if it got out Oliver Queen was looking for a date.

But that he didn’t realize this was incredibly endearing. Also, all in all Felicity’d give Oliver’s answer an A+.

Another question popped into Felicity’s head and she blurted it out before she lost her nerve, “Why Isabel Rochev?” 

Felicity had always wanted to ask that. She _had_ asked that, but the answer had been far from satisfying.

The wide-eyed look he gave her was almost panicked. Felicity would bet money that Oliver had hoped she had forgotten about that particular incident. In fact, she was pretty sure that he was regretting this ‘whole ask me anything’ thing.

To his credit though, Oliver didn’t try to get out of it. He just swallowed and said, “Similar reasons. She was interested. I was lonely. I…” He winced, then quickly confessed, “I thought maybe it would soften her up, make it easier to manipulate her.”

“Oliver!”

Dear God, that was one reason Felicity had never considered. She didn’t know whether she should be horrified or thrilled.

“I know it was a very ‘Ollie’ plan, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Until…”

Oliver scrunched up his face, pressing his lips together until they turned blue. Trying to keep something in. 

Felicity was considering the best way to prod him along when he burst out with a guilty, “Until it backfired spectacularly when I said your name during sex.”

After he said it, Oliver cringed, looking at her like a puppy waiting for a firm smack on the nose.

And all Felicity could do was laugh. “Seriously?” _Wow_. She couldn’t wrap her head around… “Wait there’s _more_. I can see it on your face.”

It was written there very clearly. Panic.

Did it make Felicity a bad person that it made her positively gleeful? “Spit it out, Mr. Ask-Me-Anything! No backsies!”

Oliver looked a little like he was going to hurl, but he confessed, “I couldn’t get hard. I panicked. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before and I knew Isabel would never let me live it down. Hell, she probably would’ve gotten extra vindictive. So I…so I pretended I was with you to finish.” He said the last in a rush and then buried his head in his hands. “I’m so _sorry_ , Felicity.”

Sorry? This was Felicity’s favorite secret. _Ever_.

But all she could say was, “Oh. My. God,” and dissolve into hilarity. It almost made Felicity wish Isabel was still alive, just so she could look in her eye and _know_. “Wow, I hit the jackpot of secrets.”

Oliver did not look like he agreed. “Well, you certainly found one I didn’t want you, or _anyone_ , to know.”

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” Felicity consoled. 

And by not that bad, Felicity meant awesome. 

Oliver’s mouth fell open and his face turned bright red. “Not that bad? I fantasized about my best friend and partner while in bed with another woman!”

Felicity clamped her mouth shut to try to swallow her giggles. Truly, she was having trouble moving beyond the very satisfying image of Oliver having to fantasize about her… _Felicity Smoak_ …his mousy EA at the time, to get it up with _Isabel Rochev_. Wow, it felt good.

Felicity was starting to enjoy this Game of Truths. Finally. 

“With all this guilt over things that you _thought_ and _fantasized_ about, you’d have thought you grew up Catholic,” Felicity teased but the glare Oliver gave her was far from amused. Maybe he deserved a little more. “ _I_ fantasized about _you_ when we were _just_ friends and partners.”

That caught Oliver’s attention and new interest lit his eyes. “When you were with other men?”

He sounded a little _too_ enthused with the idea, but all Felicity was able to offer was, “ _What_ other men?” 

Felicity had been in the middle of a multi-year drought at the time.

“Ray?” Oliver suggested, all soft and hopeful.

It was kinda adorable in an odd way. But Felicity just pursed her lips and shook her head. “If I had, I’m pretty sure I would have burst out crying which…yeah, not good.”

They both deflated a bit then. It wasn’t the best memory. No time they were apart really was. 

The more time passed, the more Felicity knew her tomorrow decision had been made but it was only right that she be a free agent before promises were made. So for now…

Felicity flashed Oliver a bright smile, “Ooo I have my next question. Since you made me tell you you were better in bed than…” Frak. “I can’t remember his name. _Again_. What the hell?”

That seemed to cheer Oliver up. “I’ve been referring to him as Detective Asshole or Detective Small Hands in my head. Feel free to use either.”

Wrinkling her nose, Felicity smacked Oliver in the arm. He needed to be nice. Detective…whatshisname was the victim here. Poor man. 

“Stop! I feel bad enough. He’s a very nice man who didn’t deserve to be dragged into the middle of our drama,” Felicity admonished, knowing she was giving away a lot. But truth was truth.

Oliver frowned and muttered under his breath, something that sounded a lot like, “Not man enough for you.”

“Ol-i- _ver_ …” Felicity warned.

“Hey, if you want him out of our drama, that’s easily fixed.” Oliver gave her a puppy-dog look.

But Felicity still wasn’t telling him before she told…poor whatshisname. Despite Oliver’s adorable pout and vulnerable look.

Instead, she gave him a hard kiss and changed the subject. Or, rather, redirected the conversation to the place where they had gone off track.

“I was merely pointing out it’s unfair that I can’t remember his name but I _can_ remember Susan William’s and, also, on balance I would like you to tell me whose better in bed.” Oliver’s eyes widened and he gave a choked laugh. “In fact feel free to tell me, in great detail, all the ways _I’m_ better than her.” 

Then Felicity smiled. Clearly, _she_ was feeling confident. 

Oliver shook his head, but if she had had to interpret his expression, she’d say there was a proud glint in his eye. “I’m sorry, baby, I can’t do that. Not in bed at any rate—”

Felicity frowned. This had better not be because the witch was good in bed. “You said any—”

“ _Because_ I’ve never slept with her,” he interrupted firmly. Oliver’s face was open and honest and Felicity would have believed him without the benefit of the Truth Serum.

 _God_ , she loved this man.

“Oh. Well, then…better kisser?” Felicity asked hopefully. She had her heart set on some dirt. Plus, she was on a roll.

Oliver shrugged and shook his head.

“Wow.” Okay…

“I can tell you all the other ways you are better,” Oliver offered. “Prettier, smarter, sexier, braver…it might not be fair though, since I really don’t know her well and you set a really high bar.”

On the scale of good answers, Felicity had to say that one was off the charts. It was so sweet in fact, it made her uncomfortable. So instinctively she quipped, “Also, not sure she’s a good person. Is that why you didn’t kiss her?”

It wasn’t a very good joke. Felicity was off her game.

“No, if anything that’s a point in her favor,” Oliver answered quickly then ground to a halt. His face went slack and he whispered, “The only people I don’t feel guilty sleeping with have at least as much darkness in them as I do.” Then, looking away, he muttered, “Fuck.”

“Another new realization?” Felicity murmured gently, running her nails along his scalp. She knew how hard this was. This drug was like doing Psychoanalysis in the Speed Force.

Nodding slowly, Oliver grunted, “I am so fucked up.”

Ha! Felicity had to laugh at that. “Right there with ya.”

Oliver’s eyes snapped back, then narrowed. “No.”

Felicity rolled her eyes, only Oliver could try to (over)protect her from herself. “You slept with me for a year,” she countered, teasing (mostly). “Doesn’t that make me at least as fucked up as—”

“ _No_. That makes you worth pushing past the guilt I felt. To work every day to try to be better, to be worthy of you, because I love you too much…I just couldn’t walk away.”

That last confession caught Felicity’s breath and…God, she didn’t even know what to say. 

So Felicity rose up on her knees and just sort of fell into him. 

And Oliver caught her. He always did. 

Pressing her forehead to Oliver’s, Felicity murmured, “You’ve always been worthy, Oliver. But that desire to be better, the drive to make yourself better, that is what I’ve always loved _most_ about you.”

Oliver’s breath hissed at her admission and he started to babble, “Felicity…Felicity…you need to know…I said Susan having questionable morality was a point in her favor but…I…I wouldn’t…I _don’t_ want her. I haven’t wanted _anyone_ since I realized I’m in love with you.”

Her breath hitched and her heart thundered against her ribs. Felicity pulled back just enough to _really_ look in Oliver’s eyes. “Sara—”

“I didn’t know,” Oliver breathed, the weight of a hundred different emotions in his eyes. “I didn’t realize…I knew I had feelings for you. Knew there was a spark. Desire. Connection. But I refused to think too much about it. You deserved so much more than I had to offer.”

Felicity deserved more than Oliver Queen, the Green fraking Arrow? She was pretty sure that he was the only one in the world who thought so.

But before she could tell him, Oliver kept going, “It wasn’t until we were standing in that clock tower and you were telling me you believed I could beat Slade and save the city that…I remember thinking: _this_ is what love is supposed to be.”

A soft whimper escaped and Felicity’s eyes fell closed, maybe because she wanted to savor the words, they were so beautiful. Soft lips pressed to her forehead and she felt the puff of a shuddering breath before his brow was again resting against hers.

“You not only made me want to be a better person, you _made me_ a better person. Just by being near me.” Oliver chuckled and Felicity pried her eyes open to look at his face, his beloved face. “That was when I knew. I was so far gone. I’d been running, trying to hide from it, but it was the truest thing I had ever felt. I was in love with you and…it was something I had never felt before. Not like that…like _this_. Not with Sara. Not with Laurel. No one.”

Felicity sucked in a breath as a tear slipped free. She swore she would have melted into a puddle if Oliver wasn’t holding her up, holding her together and…

Now she understood what he meant about saying these things under the influence of the Truth Serum. Because that was something Felicity wouldn’t be able to believe, _couldn’t_ …but now she had to. 

This was Oliver’s Truth. Straight down to his soul.

And, more than that, Felicity knew, despite the gas, this was a truth freely given. 

“I never looked back,” Oliver whispered and Felicity didn’t understand how there could still be more. “That feeling, it just grew. I didn’t know how it could get stronger, but it did. It _does_. Every day. I knew you were the end of the line for me and no one since—”

It wasn’t that Felicity didn’t want to hear what else Oliver had to say. On the contrary, every word gave her life but…well, she also really, _really_ needed to kiss him and eventually that urge overpowered everything else and her lips slammed against his.

Felicity captured the rest of Oliver’s beautiful words on her tongue. Eventually they dissolved into a moan and his neck relaxed under her fingers as he gave himself over to her, allowing her to kiss him silly.

Oliver’s lips parted in a groan and Felicity used the opportunity to get closer still, her tongue slipping through his open lips, her head tilting, pressing forward, all in an attempt to get as close as humanly possible. 

It took a beat, but Oliver’s arms encircled her. Not in passion. Not pulling or dragging her closer. Just holding her. As if Felicity was the most precious thing in the world to him.

Oliver’s tongue stroked hers and…just like that, the kiss gentled and Felicity could _feel_ his love. 

It oozed from him. It surrounded her. Every touch, big and small, showed her she was cherished.

Tears filled her eyes again. Felicity hadn’t known, hadn’t _believed_ love like this could exist. Even if she had, she would never have dreamed that it was something _she_ would get to experience. 

In that moment, all Felicity’s fears, her anger and her guardedness…it all felt so foolish. 

In ignoring her heart to listen to her head…had she been stupid? It certainly felt that way because…

How could she have possibly doubted this man?

No one who could love this deeply could abandon her. No one who laid their soul bare like this could distrust.

And their separation, the _idea_ of being separated…it seemed beyond painful. It seemed inconceivable. How could they function as two whole separate individuals when their souls were so entwined?

And, _God_ , the idea of that should be terrifying. It should have Felicity shaking with panic.

Yet, she had never felt so safe in her life.

Felicity didn’t realize she was in his lap until Oliver dragged his lips from hers, over her cheek, her chin, her throat…

“Oliver…Oliver….” Felicity’s fingertips dug into his back, trying to pull him closer, trying to burrow inside of him. Her knees tightened on his hips as she said helplessly, “Oliver…make love to me.”

For a second, it was as if her words had paralyzed him. His every muscle went still, his lips froze a mere centimeter above her collar bone. Then Oliver lifted his head and fixed her with a look so intense…Felicity whimpered. 

God _damn_ , the promise in his eyes. 

“Felicity?”

Words were beyond her. Maybe because anything she would say right then would be too much. 

Felicity nodded.

Oliver sucked in a breath and for a moment time itself seemed to still, the air ceasing to move between them. 

Then he nodded as well. Just once. The smallest of movements.

Oliver lifted her, lying Felicity down on the couch. Careful and slow. His eyes never leaving hers.

When Felicity was lying safely along the full length of the sofa, splayed out on the various throws, protecting her naked skin from any discomfort of the leather, Oliver leaned over her. The only light was the glow of the City filtering in through the window.

“Felicity…” Oliver breathed it, almost like a prayer. Then he captured her lips.

The kiss was slow. So slow.

Thorough.

His hands too. They swept over her body, the curve of her waist, the sides of her breasts, her arms and shoulders…

Slow and thorough. Deliberate. All-Encompassing. 

Felicity couldn’t do anything but follow his lead. She was under Oliver’s spell.

Or maybe he was under hers. Because those words, ‘Make love to me,’ Oliver was taking them very seriously.

His lips on hers, his tongue, his touch…they cherished. They worshiped. They _loved_. 

Felicity mewed into his mouth and splayed her hands over his cheeks, treasuring his weathered skin and rough beard, the movement of the muscles under her fingers, both fine and strong, all the small perfect movements that made her head spin and her heart full.

Yet Felicity didn’t fight when his lips left hers. As much as she wanted Oliver’s kiss to go on forever.

Because she trusted him.

Because she knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

No where Felicity didn’t want him to go anyway.

Dragging his mouth from hers, he briefly caught her lower lip in a slow sensual suck before dragging his mouth, his tongue over her skin, never leaving her for a second. Over her chin and down her throat, his fingers moving up and down her sides, his hands moving in tandem now, leaving warm trails of sensation in their wake.

Oliver murmured against her skin, his voice muffled and unintelligible as he made his way down the center of her chest.

But even though the words couldn’t possibly be discerned, Felicity would swear Oliver was saying, ‘I love you,’ over and over, taking his time to make sure the words seeped into her skin.

Felicity kept her eyes closed. Sight wasn’t a sense she needed right then.

Finally, Oliver’s hands cupped her breasts. His mouth moved between them as if unable to decide which one to feast on first.

When he finally chose one, he paused before taking the tip into his mouth. His shuddering breath played over Felicity’s taut nipple. Only then did his lips close around it.

But he didn’t feast.

Or maybe he did, but it was a banquet Oliver took his time with, relearning every nook and cranny, retrying every touch, using every skill in that masterful tongue’s arsenal, until Felicity was writhing beneath him, incoherent and gasping.

Then Oliver repeated it all on the other side. Every last nuance.

To a man who loved as Oliver loved, _making love_ was no simple task.

Felicity had forgotten.

She never would again.

Oliver rose to his knees and Felicity wrapped her legs around him, hooking her toes into the underwear he had so unfortunately decided to put back on, and used her last semblance of coordination to push them over the curve of his ass, the length of his muscled thighs.

Flashing her a look of intense adoration, Oliver took a moment to just gaze at her before lowering his lips to her stomach. He began kissing a path downward, thwarting Felicity’s toes’ attempts to remove that last piece of cotton as his body moved out of the reach of her less than long legs.

“No,” Felicity cried.

She was almost as surprised as Oliver by the word that slipped from her tongue.

Oliver froze and looked up at her with a delirious confusion. 

Felicity held out her arms and shook her head. “I need you inside me. Now.” 

She was happy with the way those words emerged. Sweet, yet confident. Neither a demand nor a plea. A statement of fact.

Still, Felicity was somewhat surprised at how easily he bowed to her will and reversed directions. But still slow. The man seemed to have one speed right then.

It allowed Felicity to easily remove his boxer-briefs, inch by inch, until he was naked and resting between her thighs.

His cock notched at her entrance.

His nose pressed to hers.

His breathing short and pained against her lips.

“Felicity?” It was a soft gasp of a sound.

And, licking her lips, Felicity responded with the only word she had, “ _Oliver_.”

He sank into her.

Slow.

Thorough.

Perfect.

So Felicity…Oliver… _both of them_ felt every blessed inch.

Felicity whimpered and moaned, tilting her hips to achieve maximum contact, until they were finally flush against each other. Her eyes rolled back. She felt Oliver’s lashes fluttering against hers and she knew he was doing the same.

Their eyes met.

Their lips parted. 

Their mouths came together as they began to rock, to slide and move in that perfect rhythm.

They didn’t speak another word that night. None that could be understood anyway.

Maybe they were all out of words.

Maybe they were beyond speech.

Maybe it didn’t matter in the slightest.

Felicity thought it was a long time before they slept. Before making love gave way to a deep, contented sleep.

They made love endlessly.

That wasn’t an exaggeration. Felicity couldn’t have told anyone when it ended, _if_ it ended…

She came. A soft beautiful pleasure that consumed her senses.

Oliver came. His essence filling her as his lips seared her skin and his face contorted in bliss.

After, he rolled them onto their sides, so Felicity was once again sandwiched between the back of the couch and his body, Oliver still hard and full and deep inside her.

He ran a lazy hand over her backside, curling her thigh over his.

And they began again.

And again.

Felicity didn’t know how many times.

It didn’t matter.

The slow rocking motions. Pressed together every place they could possibly touch. Hands and lips exploring everything within reach.

Getting slower and less thorough with time.

When Felicity finally drifted to sleep it felt like a natural part of an endless cycle.

As endless as Oliver’s love for her.

And hers for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, folks, that’s the end of the original twelve chapters and the Sex Pollen part. After this it’s all aftermath, for good or for evil. I do promise no unnecessary drama.
> 
> Chapter 13 will be up next Sunday, February 2. The story is finished (editing and all) through Chapter 16. Then I have three more chapters to edit and the Aftermath to write. 
> 
> You guys have been so awesome and so supportive and I’m really pushing to get the edits on this finished, but if you read my Tumblr post on the sneak peek, I’m handling the spoilers for the end of the show very poorly (which is pathetic, given I haven’t even been watching) and having a hard time focusing on the story. (Actually, the only thing I want to do is curl up on my couch and play ipad games while I introduce my daughter to _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ ).
> 
> I’ll keep you all updated as to my progress and, again, I’ll be here next Sunday.
> 
> Good luck to all on Tuesday. All the prayers that we’ll get something resembling a happy ending, but if we don’t, there will always be Fanfiction.
> 
> Happy reading,
> 
> Emmilyne


	13. When the Air Clears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you who follow me on Tumblr and/or Twitter probably know how close I came to not posting today. Between the Super Bowl being tonight and the fandom’s (fully understandable) fixation on the finale, I was afraid of a dead week and it putting my Muse into a deep sulk.
> 
> I swear I’m generally a confident person, but it doesn’t take much for me to become insecure and needy when it comes to writing (I really hate this about myself) and my Muse goes on strike. It’s annoying.
> 
> Anyway, all that to say, I’m here and actually posting early to give my American readers time to read and enjoy before the Super Bowl starts, keeping up the momentum and keeping the love flowing at **Ireland1733** said. I hope you like it.

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 13: When the Air Clears**

The next time Oliver woke, he didn’t have the luxury of taking in his surroundings. The pounding on the door had him sitting bolt upright and searching for a weapon.

Only…

Usually Oliver would already be on his feet and ready to fight in seconds and…

He wasn’t.

Sunlight poured in through the windows and his eyes took an unusual amount of time to adjust. His body felt heavy and his mouth was devoid of moisture. And his brain…nothing was moving as quickly as Oliver needed it to.

Which is why it was a very good thing the next round of thumping was accompanied by a familiar voice.

“Oliver!”

“John,” Felicity mumbled next to him, her voice thick. 

That was all it took for her to command Oliver’s full attention.

Yet, even that was sluggish. When he turned his head to look down at her, it felt like he was moving through pea soup. Watching Felicity lick her swollen lips and snuggle deeper into the crevasse between him and the sofa seemed to require all of Oliver’s available focus. 

John screamed again, “Oliver, you in there? Felicity?!” The pounding no longer sounded like simple knocking. 

Her eyes still closed, Felicity let out a discontented little moan and whined, “Ol’ver, make him stop. Too loud.” She punctuated her command with a soft tap on his thigh. 

Oliver’s naked thigh.

And Felicity looked equally naked under the throw. Her hair was wild, tangled. Sex hair.

_Christ_ , she was beautiful.

It wasn’t until Oliver heard the distinctive crunch of a door being broken down that he realized he probably should have at least tried to respond to Digg before now.

John barged into the bright room. He had an assault rifle held out in front of him and was wearing full combat gear, complete with a gas mask pushed up onto the top of his head. 

Oliver really _should_ alert John to their presence.

But still, when he tried he couldn’t get his voice to work. His throat was simply too dry.

Or maybe Oliver’s brain was just working too slowly to relay the message to his mouth.

He swallowed, but before he could try again, Digg turned. His eyes widened as he took in the scene and he met Oliver’s eyes. 

Then John seemed to deflate, the barrel of his rifle dropping. “ _Shit_.”

Another pair of boots appeared behind him, but John held up his hand to the newcomer. “Stay back.” He turned to Oliver again. “Felicity?”

Oliver glanced back to where she was still sleeping comfortably. The hand that had been hitting his thigh was now curled around it. Her warm breath puffed against his skin.

“Yeah.” Oliver’s first word sounded like he was talking around sandpaper and it didn’t feel much better.

When Oliver was able to drag his eyes back to John, his friend was halfway out the door, talking to whoever was on the other side. 

“…tell Lance we found them. Canvass the rest of the building, make sure no one else is holed up here.”

Digg closed the door. Or tried to, given it was now broken and hanging unevenly from the frame. He reached out and touched what seemed to be the raged edges of duct tape. Oliver could see him crease his brow and shake his head before he turned back to him and Felicity.

“Jesus, man, have you been here the whole time?” John asked as he placed the rifle and gas mask on the desk and grabbed one of the chairs to drag over.

Oliver opened his mouth, trying to say…something, trying to _think_. He looked around the room. “How long have we…?”

He tried to remember.

They’d been gassed.

Dosed with a powerful aphrodisiac/truth serum and had escaped to this office.

That must be what John meant; had they been here since the gas? 

They had been, but how long was that? And why wasn’t Felicity waking up?

Oliver turned to her and brushed the hair from her cheek. “Felicity?”

“She okay?”

That was an excellent question. The _only_ question Oliver really cared about at the moment. He cupped her face, but Felicity just snuggled into his palm. Her breathing was strong and even.

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ , you need to wake up.” Oliver’s voice was still hoarse, but the worry banished the cobwebs and the words were clear.

Her face scrunched up in displeasure but otherwise she didn’t move.

“Maybe we should—”

Oliver ignored John. He shifted so he could wrap both hands around Felicity’s head and leaned close to insist, “ _Open your eyes_ , honey! Show me you’re okay.”

Panic started to rise as he forced out those last words, horrible scenarios involving comas and brain damage pushing their way into his foggy brain.

So it was a damn good thing when Felicity’s eyelids finally started to flutter. It looked like she was having difficulty opening them but she obeyed. She met Oliver’s eyes and her’s were baby blue in the morning (was it morning?) light.

“I’m…” Felicity croaked, then swallowed and cleared her throat, licking her bee-stung lips. _God_ , how many times had he kissed those lips last night? “I’m fine. Just sleepy.”

Her words were slurred, her eyes unfocused, lacking their usual sharp intelligence.

John pulled his chair closer, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “Felicity, do you know who you are?”

That got Felicity’s attention and she tipped her head to the side, “Uh…is that a trick question, John?”

Digg’s eyes fell closed as he realized what he’d said. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes and muttered, “Sorry, long night. Let’s try…do you know what day it is?”

Felicity met Oliver’s eyes and he watched her brow crinkle. “December…” she rasped, wetting her lips again, “24th?”

They both turned to John and he nodded. Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. At least they hadn’t lost an additional day.

“Christmas Eve,” Felicity whispered.

Oliver almost laughed. This _was_ how his Christmases tended to go. He added, “The first day of Hanukkah.”

Felicity’s eyes flew back to his, surprised. Then she whispered in that same breathy rasp, “You’ve been paying attention.”

Oliver thought he might be blushing. “Of course.”

John interrupted with a soft clearing of his throat. “Okay, good. Now how much do you remember from last night? The holiday party and…after?”

Dragging his eyes from Felicity’s, Oliver took in John’s scowl. It was a solid minute before the question really sunk in. When it did…

The night’s events besieged him. A fast forward montage.

So intense it left Oliver breathless.

The party. The gas. The images on the computer.

Felicity.

Jesus Christ, _Felicity_.

Sensual and demanding. Naked and vulnerable. Harsh and angry. Loving and soft.

And the sex…

God, _the sex_.

But that was nothing compared to… _everything else_.

Oliver blinked hard through the dizzying barrage of memories. So much had happened, so much had been said. He needed to pause the rapid fire video in his mind and take it all in. Process it.

But where to start?

Then there was the present. Felicity, sleepy and confused and _hungover_ , next to him. John dressed in combat gear, looking at them with such concern.

_How much do you remember?_

The question implied John expected there to be holes in their memory. 

Shit, Oliver didn’t know how there could possibly be _more_.

Then it occurred to him…then he remembered Felicities bleary expression, how hard it was to wake her….what if _she_ didn’t remember?

Adrenaline surged through Oliver’s body and his heart pounded. He sat fully upright, scooting back so that he could get a good look at Felicity.

She met his eyes easily, but confusion was written across her face.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

If she didn’t remember…?

Not everything from last night had been good. Which was an understatement, really. A lot of the memories bouncing around Oliver’s brain were down-right painful. 

He remembered Felicity yelling at him, remembered learning all the ways he’d hurt her, remembered how much of a failure he’d felt. How hopeless.

If she _did_ remember, would she think about that pain and turn from him? Would Felicity recall Oliver’s shameful confessions and find them a whole lot less amusing in the harsh _sober_ afternoon light?

Or would she remember the connection, the comfort, the pleasure? How sorry Oliver had been? How it had felt like a fresh start?

It didn’t matter. 

However Felicity decided to take the events of last night, Oliver wanted her to remember.

He couldn’t take it if she _didn’t remember._

Oliver knew Felicity forgetting wouldn’t be the end of the world. They’d stood at the brink of the end of the world. More than once. He _knew_ this wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him.

But in that moment it _felt_ like it.

Felicity forgetting felt like the thing that would break him. For good.

“What do _you_ remember?” Oliver whispered.

Then he held his breath.

Oliver watched her eyes become focused again, watched the intelligence return. Felicity’s eyes widened and she sucked in a sharp breath.

Oh, _thank God_.

Clutching the throw, Felicity held it to her chest and sat up, pushing back into the sofa.

Instinctively, Oliver shifted, giving her room, his muscles coiling tight. They were far from out of the woods, but at least he knew last night wasn’t a complete blank for her. 

Felicity pulled her knees to her chest and he remembered how she’d done that last night and his heart clenched painfully. That couldn’t be a good sign.

But her toes brushed his thigh and Felicity didn’t flinch or yank them away. Oliver forced himself to not panic, to not withdraw.

Then her toes wiggled under his leg and Oliver found himself able to breathe again.

Felicity’s eyes flicked to John then back to Oliver.

“I…” she coughed and cleared her throat. “I feel like I swallowed a bag of cotton balls. Covered in sand.”

“I’ll get you a drink,” Oliver offered automatically, starting to rise, only to have Felicity grab his arm, pulling his gaze back to hers. She seemed to be trying to communicate something with those bottomless depths but hell if he knew what. 

Then her eyes brightened with amusement and she said, “Pretty sure you’re less than presentable under this blanket and you’re not bringing it with you.”

Oliver was about to point out they had more than one blanket, but she turned to Digg. “John, Oliver has a mini-fridge on the other side of his desk, can you…?”

“Of course.” John immediately got up to do as he was asked and Oliver decided it was a good sign if Felicity remembered the fridge. 

At least that her memory was intact. How that would guide her on the other hand…

As soon as John turned his back, Felicity dug her hand into the sofa and produced Oliver’s boxer-briefs. The gentle smile on her face as she handed them over was also a good sign. 

“Thanks,” Oliver breathed. He needed to be careful, hope was a powerful and dangerous thing.

As he took the soft cotton from her hand, her fingers briefly clutched Oliver’s. When he brought his eyes to hers, Felicity’s grew serious and she whispered, “What do _you_ remember?”

She was punting, making him answer first, but he didn’t care. Oliver would give her whatever she needed.

Oliver swallowed and whispered back, “ _Everything_.”

That one word held more than he’d intended.

Too much, maybe.

Was the Truth Serum still in affect? Oliver was having trouble even imagining guarding himself from her.

And he was possibly the most guarded man on earth.

But relief flooded Felicity’s features and Oliver was glad for whatever impulse led to the rash response. 

She let out a long breath. “Me too.” Felicity gave him a shy smile and Oliver swore it gave him life. She gnawed on her lip and the soft look on her face made his stomach flip over.

It made Oliver wish John wasn’t so quick with the water. Or that they had woken up on their own, before he got there. There was so much they needed to talk about. 

And, yes, he, _Oliver Queen_ , most definitely wanted to have that talk. 

But Felicity hastily let go of Oliver’s hand (and his underwear) and reached for one of the bottles John carried.

Oliver slipped the boxer-briefs on under the blanket while Felicity drank, finishing half the bottle before coming up for breath. 

He tried to center himself. Oliver had a niggling feeling he should be focusing on something other than his love life, but his brain was still cloudy and he was having trouble remembering what.

John resumed his interrogation position in the chair. Clearly, _he_ remembered. “Let’s try this again. First off, are you two okay?”

Oliver turned to Felicity. She nodded so he did as well. Though ‘okay’ didn’t exactly describe what he was just then. So maybe the Truth Serum had worn off. He didn’t think he would have gotten away with even that simple half-truth last night.

“What do you remember?” John repeated and there was no avoiding the question any further.

Clearing his throat again, Oliver tried to gather his thoughts. Organize himself enough to answer John’s question. Because right now, the memories in the forefront of his brain were not ones he wanted to share. So much had happened under the influence of the drug and now…

The air had cleared and tomorrow was here.

Only one thing was certain. The ball was in Felicity’s court.

If the woman in question realized Oliver was obsessing over her, she didn’t show it. She pressed her half-empty bottle into his hand and commanded, “Drink.” 

Oliver obeyed without thought.

Then Felicity turned to John and answered for both of them (so maybe she was as aware as Oliver was that she was in charge here), “All of it. I mean, I _assume_ I remember all of it, because my memories are rather clear and complete. Vivid even. Technicolor and surround sound…”

Felicity turned a beautiful shade of rose and Oliver hid his smile behind the water bottle.

“But it’s not like I can tell you what I _don’t_ remember,” Felicity continued in a glorious babble, “because I don’t remember what I don’t remember. It’s a catch 22, you know?”

Unfortunately, John was looking more frustrated than amused. “So tell me what you _do_ remember.”

Felicity flashed Digg a horrified look. “You want _details_?”

Oliver choked on the last of his water. Hell, he practically did a spit take. She was so fucking adorable.

John let out a long (half panicked), “Nooo!” holding up his hands as if the ward off the offending words. “I’ve seen more than enough. Too much. Far too much. There isn’t…I don’t want any _details_. Not of _that_.”

Fuck.

Oliver and Felicity hadn’t been the only ones affected last night.

City Hall had been attacked and Oliver was the mayor for fuck’s sake. And while he was mooning over his own love life, everyone else was dealing with…

“What happened?” Oliver reeled on John. “Where is everyone from the party? Is anyone hurt? Fuck…Thea! Is _Thea_ okay?”

Oliver bounded to his feet, his eyes flying to the clock on the wall. 

5:07 

PM 

It had to be pm.

“Holy shit, John, we’ve been here _eighteen_ hours?” Oliver looked to Felicity for confirmation.

“Seventeen, I think,” Felicity corrected, her own face now slack with worry. “John?”

Letting out a breath, Digg frowned. “Everyone is fine. Well, not _fine_ —”

“ _John_!” Oliver snapped. 

Another sigh. “Everyone at the party, Thea included, is,” John ran a hand down his face, “as fine as they can be.”

The panic was back. Different but no less intense. It choked him. Oliver remembered those videos. _Vividly_.

“There were no casualties,” John told them. “No serious injuries. Everyone is at the hospital, recovering. There were enough people that we had to send them to several different ones. So far, the doctors haven’t found any lasting effects from the drug and, as far as I know, everyone has finally woken up. No one remembers much though. Well, except you.”

Oliver let out a breath, his head falling back. So that was why the question. As profoundly glad as he was that he remembered, that Felicity remembered, he had no idea how the others would feel. Would they prefer not to be haunted with the images of everything they had done? Or would the not knowing torment them even more? And Thea…?

“Fuck,” Oliver spit out. He didn’t know what else to say.

“Oliver,” Felicity called his name softly, patting the spot on the sofa he had vacated as she pulled the throw more securely around her.

Giving him an opening while simultaneously securing her boundaries. 

Oliver had no idea how to interpret it, but now wasn’t the time to figure it out.

By the time Oliver moved to obey, Felicity was already asking John, “Do we know who _did this_?” At least _she_ had her head in the game.

John shook his head.

“Do we know why?” Felicity pressed. There was anger in her voice. “Do we know _anything_?”

Grunting, John gave them an unamused smile. “Up until about ten minutes ago everyone thought this all an elaborate scheme to kidnap the _two of you_ and get you out of the country while everyone was distracted.”

“ _What_!” Oliver growled, seriously rethinking his decision to sit.

“Hey,” John defended, “once the building was evacuated…the building we had to cut glass to get into…the only people not accounted for were the mayor and his ex-fiancé. Plus, Felicity’s phone was found smashed on the floor.”

Felicity winced and Oliver squeezed her knee in sympathy. 

“Your Coats were still in the coatroom,” John continued to list off the evidence. “Oliver’s phone’s GPS said it was in his office, but everyone assumed he had just forgotten it there.”

Felicity nodded like that was a reasonable conclusion and Oliver rolled his eyes. 

“Your dates were still in the Ballroom.”

This time _Oliver_ winced. He couldn’t even make himself look at Felicity. Their _dates_ were the last thing he wanted to think about.

“It wasn’t until Rory asked if anyone had actually checked your office to make sure that we—”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Oliver muttered, burying his head in his hands. What a cluster fuck.

And dear God, he was glad he hadn’t said _that_ out loud. 

“Look,” John looked even more defensive now. “It was a _mess_ downstairs.”

“We know,” Felicity told him carefully, her nose scrunched up like she was forcing herself to talk about something she would rather not. “We were able to pull up the cameras when we first got up here. Before we,” her eyes briefly flicked to Oliver’s, “got uh, overpowered by the gas.”

_Overpowered_?

What the fuck did _that_ mean?

“I sent you guys messages though,” Felicity said, sounding even more defensive than John. 

Which implied she felt guilty. She should make up her mind. Were they responsible for their actions or not?

John just shook his head. “We didn’t get anything. But there were scramblers in the City Hall servers. WiFi and cellular was… _is_ blocked. Nothing could get in or out. As far as I know they haven’t figured out how to fix it either.”

Oliver rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. It wasn’t time to go analyzing everything Felicity said. He needed to be the Mayor. The Green Arrow. Oliver Queen’s love life had to take a back seat.

What the fuck else was new?

Sitting up straight and trying to look as mayoral as one could wearing nothing but boxer-briefs, Oliver turned to John and said, “Tell us everything you know. From the beginning.”

“Ok-ay.” John blew out a breath and rubbed his head. “I think it was…10:30 when the SCPD got the first call. Someone was heading to the party late, planned to meet friends, and all the doors were locked. _Sealed_. The lights were all still on, but no one from the party was answering their phones. SCPD sent out a pair of officers…”

It was clear from John’s expression that hadn’t been particularly successful. Oliver tried to figure out what time the gas had been released. The party had started at 8pm. His toast had been about 9:30…

“They tried to get in touch with the Police Chief, the Commissioner, _you_ , with no success,” John continued. “But, of course, they couldn’t get in touch with any of them. The entire city’s leadership was at the party. “Thankfully, Lance had gone home early. They got him and he called me and the rest of the team, the not-invited-to-the-party _team_. That was about 11.”

And thank _God_ they hadn’t been invited. It was the one good thing to come from John being in hiding. 

“I got a text from Curtis just after 10,” Felicity put in, looking to Oliver for conformation, “the gas was released right after.”

Oliver nodded. That was what he remembered too. Jesus, an hour passed before anyone competent was even _alerted_.

“So you were in the ballroom when the gas was released?” John asked.

“It was a white-out,” Felicity agreed with a nod, her eyes getting a little distant with the memory.

“So…?” John didn’t look like he could imagine how they’d gotten out.

“Oliver’s quick reflexes,” Felicity answered, sending Oliver a small smile. “The gas hit and the next thing I knew he was pulling me out the caterer’s entrance and into the stairwell.”

Oliver looked at his knees. Because for some inexplicable reason that made him feel shy. _Shy_. What the fuck? 

He cleared his throat and picked up where Felicity left off, “We knew that the doors were locked from the text, so all I could think was to try to go…up. Escape the gas. Get to my office. Seal that off—”

“Duct tape?” John offered with a soft chuckle.

“Duct tape,” Oliver agreed. “The plan was to escape the effects of the gas and contact the team. Neither worked. Obviously.”

And…that’s when the familiar rush of absolute failure rushed over him.

This time it was his sister and 200 innocent people who suffered the consequences.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that…”

Oliver looked John in the eye. “Trust me. The gas affected us.”

“Umhm,” Felicity agreed, sucking her lips into her mouth and looking away.

Again. What the _hell_ did that mean? For an expressive person, Felicity Smoak was impossible to read sometimes.

John put up his hands. “Look, this is the most coherent story I’ve heard. Including the ones from the first responders. No one else has more than a few fractured memories. And, man,” he focused on Oliver, “you got Felicity out of there. Trust me you didn’t want her down there.”

Felicity wouldn’t look at either of them and Oliver…

“Thea.” 

It was all Oliver could say.

Dragging her eyes back to them, Felicity twisted the blanket between her fingers and whispered, “There was no time. If you’d tried to look for her, if you had hesitated for a _millisecond_ , none of us would have gotten out.”

Oliver appreciated her words. It barely put a dent in his guilt, but he _was_ glad they had gotten out. For so so many reasons.

Swallowing the lump of shame in his throat, Oliver turned back to John. “What happened when you got here?”

John blew out a breath and pinched his nose and Oliver got a sinking feeling in his gut.

“They’d cut a hole out of the front door, but the first guys through were affected by the gas. They had to send in a group to rescue the rescuers. Only they didn’t _want_ to be rescued.” John’s lip quirked in a humorless half-grin. “They had to be restrained and carried out. All except the one who had managed to disappear so far into the crowd they couldn’t tell him from the party-goers.”

“Great,” Oliver tried to stretch his suddenly very tense neck muscles, “SCPD’s finest.”

John gave him a wry smile. “To be fair, SCPD’s _finest_ were all invited to the party.”

Felicity groaned and Oliver tried not to think about _her_ thinking about her boyfriend. Dammit.

“The gas was still that active an _hour_ after it was released?” she murmured. “Not good. Was it still being released? Did you find the source?”

“No idea and not that I know of,” John answered with a shake of his head. “I was part of the second group to go in. With gas masks. Which was convenient since I’m in hiding.” 

Both Felicity and Oliver blanched at that. If John was caught while trying to rescue them…

“And, God, what was inside the ballroom made me wish I’d _stayed_ in hiding. I don’t have words.” John’s expression said it all. “No one wanted to be rescued. And I mean, _no one_. They tried to get us to join, if you know what I mean.”

Unfortunately, Oliver did.

“And when that didn’t work, they fought like hell. I can’t tell you how outnumbered we were. And the drug did not dampen their fighting skills. Your sister…”

Oliver clenched his jaw and forced out, “Tell me.”

Felicity took his hand and squeezed.

“It wasn’t that bad,” John told him, but he didn’t look like he fully believed it. “I mean Thea was still partially clothed, which is saying something. We found her on the edge of the…”

John trailed off. At a loss for words. Oliver had to admire how far he’d gotten.

“Orgy?” Felicity provided, ever helpful, and Oliver supposed he should be glad his sister was on the fringes of the _orgy_.

“Yeah. That.” John looked as disgusted as Oliver had ever seen him. “Rene had to knock out your bodyguard, Jerome, to get Thea away from him. And it still took both of us _and_ Rory to get Thea out of there. I don’t think Rene will walk correctly for a week. Thea was…Oliver, she was out of her _damn mind_. Nothing I said…” he shook his head. “I couldn’t get through to her. We got her out of the building, but they had to sedate her to get her onto an ambulance.”

Oliver leaned his head back until it touched the arm of the couch and he closed his eyes. Felicity’s thumb softly brushing the top of his hand was a comfort he wasn’t sure he deserved. 

He supposed he should be relieved. If Thea was with Jerome still, then there was a good chance she’d only had the one partner. It was the best they could hope for. But the rest of them…

There was no doubt about it. Oliver had failed his city. 

“I think we managed to evac a total of four people, Thea and Jerome included,” John continued his indictment. “We were completely over our heads. So…I called ARGUS and they took over. Got some people in here to filter the air and we all went back in carrying sedatives.”

“ _Fuck_.” Now they had to worry about how the sedatives interacted with the drug already in their systems.

“It was almost 2am by the time we’d evacuated the last person.” John turned a small smile to Felicity. “We were actually able to evacuate Curtis and Paul without sedating them. We just had to promise they could stay together. Your dates on the other hand…”

Felicity moaned and rubbed her forehead, clutching Oliver’s hand almost painfully now. 

She was still holding his hand.

Huh.

That _had_ to be a good sign, right?

“I think we’d both prefer to be spared _those_ particular details,” Felicity groaned.

Scrunching up his face, John nodded. “Right. I had started looking for you two right off the bat, so by that time we’d passed worried to frantic and were almost at resigned. We searched the entire ground floor, every closet…”

Felicity let out a hysterical giggle, then clamped both hands over her mouth to push it back in.

John ignored her except for a brief glance. “A few of which were occupied, just not by you. That’s when we officially started to treat this as a kidnapping.”

Oliver swallowed a growl. “So we have no clue who did this?” The drug must be worn off because he was feeling the familiar burn of anger. And it wasn’t at Detective Whats-his-name.

“Sorry, man,” John said and he really did look sorry. “No one has claimed responsibility. There weren’t any other big crime sprees that this one could be a distraction for—”

“Just because it’s not obvious, doesn’t mean this wasn’t a distraction for something else,” Oliver interrupted, because that was still his best guess as to why someone had done this. “We need to put SCPD on the highest alert. The Team—”

“ARGUS is all over this place,” John interrupted and Oliver wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. At least it was Lyla and not Amanda in charge. “They’ve been canvasing for evidence all night and have their best people analyzing what drug they could recover, along with blood samples, saliva, sperm samples—”

“Seriously?” Felicity choked.

Like hell was _Oliver_ handing over a sperm sample.

But John nodded gravely. Nothing about this was a joke. “We’ve got to get you two to Star General. The docs there have set up a protocol for the victims.”

Oliver blanched at the word. He hated being a victim. Hadn’t let himself be one for a long time.

“There’s one more thing,” John added, apprehension heavy in his voice. “The press is swarming the building. Lance only said you were unaccounted for, but the speculation is ramped.”

Oliver’s head popped up. “Did he say Felicity was missing too?”

“No—”

“Thank—”

“But they found out anyway.”

His head falling back, the growl Oliver had been suppressing escaped. “ _Fuck_.”

Felicity patted Oliver’s hand and put on a bright smile. Was it the fake one she’d told him about last night? Was she pretending to be ‘okay’? 

“It’s fine. Just go out there and…” Felicity waved a breezy hand but now that Oliver knew what he was looking for he could see the anxiety lingering just beneath the surface. “Tell them what happened. Well, you should definitely put on some clothes first….though going out like this _would_ distract them...”

Miracle of miracles, Oliver found himself smiling. He squeezed her shoulder and tried to show his gratitude in his eyes, tried to say without words, ‘I know what you’re doing and I’m grateful. But you don’t need to. I don’t need you to be ‘okay’’

It was a lot to say without words, but this wasn’t a conversation for witnesses. Not even John.

Instead, Oliver asked with a wry humor, “Exactly what _should_ I tell them?”

“The truth.”

It fell from Felicity’s lips without hesitation, but instantly it sparked something between them and their eye contact was intense for one long moment. 

Again, memories flooded Oliver. And this time, none of them were sexual.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “You sure you want that?”

But Oliver knew whatever her answer, there was no way he was letting the press paint Felicity as a tramp and a cheater. There would be plenty of juicy gossip about tonight, but he would do everything he could to shield her from the worst of it.

Felicity licked her lips, her eyes darting around, flustered. “I’m not saying you should give them a blow by blow.” She turned bright red. “Tell them what we just told John. Tell them how we escaped to your office, how we tried to get word out and…how we were rescued this morning. Since they don’t know about the Green Arrow, no one will question why we waited for help until…you know, we fell asleep. And I’ll be right there to corroborate your story.”

“Oh no!” Oliver was all for this plan until that last bit. “You are leaving by the back entrance with John.” He turned to his best friend. “You can’t be seen anyway. Sneak her out while the press is focused on me.”

“Oliver!”

John nodded.

“John!”

Felicity was bordering on her loud voice but Oliver wasn’t backing down. “This isn’t up for discussion.”

“Ol-i- _ver_!” Felicity’s indignation was palpable. Oliver even thought she stomped her foot, but he wasn’t looking. He was already making his way across the room to the wall cabinet where he and Thea stored extra clothes. “You don’t get to make this decision—”

“I do,” Oliver told her calmly, though he couldn’t say it was easy. “Because I’m the mayor. The press is _my_ responsibility.” He handed Felicity a long t-shirt and yoga pants from his pile. “These are Thea’s. They should fit.”

Felicity glared at Oliver for a full minute and it took all of his nerve not to cave. Finally, she snatched up the clothes and snapped, “Fine, pull the mayor card.” Then she grabbed Oliver’s green hoody off the pile as well. “But I’m taking this too.”

She stood, wrapping the blanket around herself and flinging the edge over her shoulder with an indignant flourish. Sending him one last glare, Felicity flounced off to the bathroom, head held high.

Like the queen she was.

Oliver watched until the door shut behind her. Then he let out a sigh and started to pull on his own jeans.

“Hey, man,” John asked, his voice low enough to not be heard across the room, never mind in the bathroom, “what _happened_ here?”

Pulling up his zipper and buttoning his jeans, Oliver sent John an incredulous look. Was he _seriously_ asking that question?

But, of course, John wasn’t cowed. He never was. Thank God. “So…it was just mindless, animalistic—?”

“No! _No_.” Oliver shook his head, closing his eyes briefly before grabbing his henley and adding in a soft murmur, “It wasn’t like that.”

It was a little like that. 

But it had also been so _so_ much more.

“Of course, it wasn’t,” John muttered. “It’s Oliver and Felicity.” 

Oliver pulled on his shirt. What was he supposed to say?

John ran a hand down his face before asking, “Does this change anything between you two?”

The question hit Oliver in the gut. With the force of a freight train.

“I hope so,” he whispered, feeling insanely vulnerable as he did. 

The look of sympathy John sent him just made Oliver more uncomfortable. He was pulling on his socks when Digg asked, “What are you going to do?”

Oliver knew he wasn’t asking about the giant disaster the mayor and the Green Arrow had to untangle. He wished he was. At least Oliver had some control over that.

Pausing, Oliver gave himself a second to think the question over. But there was only one answer. “It’s entirely up to Felicity now.”

John’s lips thinned and it looked like he wanted to argue. But he didn’t understand. Didn’t know the full story. Oliver had laid everything out for Felicity last night. Given her… _everything_ he had to give.

Now all he could do was wait and see what Felicity would do with it.

Oliver was saved from trying to explain that to John by the bathroom door opening. Felicity stood, her hair down, wild but finger-combed, in Thea’s gray leggings and Oliver’s green hoody.

She looked beautiful.

She looked like she was _his_.

If only.

Felicity sent Oliver a glare, then stalked over to grab her shoes and dress from last night. When she faced him, she looked him over before seeming to come to a decision.

Stomping over until she was right in front of him, Felicity poked Oliver in the chest. “You had best meet me at the hospital. No skipping out and slipping back to the Bunker, mister. I’m giving you 20-30 minutes top, before I’m coming back to drag your ass there.”

Oliver couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Felicity nodded once, looking at least slightly satisfied, before turning with that flounce. “Come on, John. Let’s get out of here, so Oliver can go be ‘mayoral.’” She flicked a wrist at him and disappeared out the door.

Okay then.

Time to face tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, officially in the Aftermath, not exactly the warm fuzzies but necessary. I gave them as much time as I could in their bubble, but now they have to deal with the rest of the world.
> 
> This story has 19 chapters. They are all written if not edited. All I have left is to write the Afterward and I might wait until its all published to work on that. Right now my priority is to finish the edits on what I have written, respond to all my comments, and (hopefully) get back to _To Sacrifice the Sun_ , which only has about ten chapters left. 
> 
> Extra special thank you’s this week to **mariposablue9** and **Ireland1733.** It’s been a rough week (not just because Arrow ended) and they’ve been amazing friends. And to everyone else who has reached out in this last week with encouragement.
> 
> I’ve been responding to the last two chapters with Olicity gifs, because it’s fun and a nice way to remember all the wonderful times. We are blessed with so very, very many of them, so I’ll be responding to this week’s comments with those as well. I’d like to see how many I can respond to before having to repeat one. 😉
> 
> I think I’m probably speaking for all the Olicity writers out there when I say, we really need you guys to let us know you are still here and still care. These stories take a lot of time that most of us don’t have and it’s you guys that make it worthwhile. So even if you don’t know what to say (trust me, I can relate to that), a few words or even a string of emojis would mean the world to us. It really doesn’t have to be eloquent.
> 
> Thank you and happy reading!


	14. Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everyone’s comments and support last week, especially given the end of the show and the end of the Sex Pollen part of the story. You guys are awesome!

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 14: Tomorrow**

They were playing Oliver’s impromptu press conference on the local news again.

They played it every ten minutes. The people were clamoring for more, but the press didn’t have a lot of information (probably because no one did) so they used what they _did have_ over and over and over again.

“The City Hall Gassing,” was what they were calling it. 

On the reputable channels.

Other networks had tag lines of “Orgy Gas,” “Sex Party for Christmas,” “Aphrodisiac Attack on Star City,” and, yes, even, “Sex Pollen Outbreak.”

Which was why Felicity kept _this_ channel on.

_Not_ because she got to watch Oliver speak to the press with limited breaks for commentary and commercials.

Over and over and over again.

Of course, Felicity _could_ just walk to the next hallway over and see Oliver in person. She wanted to. She almost had. When she was first told he’d arrived at Star City General the urge had been overwhelming.

Unfortunately, Felicity had had her feet in stirrups at the time.

Though this was far from her worst trip to the hospital, it still _sucked_. 

By the time all the oh-so-fun tests had been finished, after Felicity’d been poked and prodded in places that were far too sore to be poked and prodded, once she had been pumped full of so much fluid she thought her bladder would explode, she’d had time to think.

And rushing off to Oliver’s hospital room, given everything, was not the wisest plan.

Felicity watched as the Oliver on screen finally gave in and answered the multiple probing questions about why _she_ was the one secluded with him during the ‘event’ and not his date.

“As I said,” TV Oliver told them, “ _I just happened to be talking to Ms. Smoak when the gas was released. She has been one of my best friends and strongest supports since I returned from the island. Whatever history we have, we always remain friends, first and foremost_.”

It was true. Also, what else was Oliver going to say? ‘I was checking up on her because she was acting weird’? ‘We still talk to each other every day because we’re vigilante partners’? ‘It’s like we’re magnets and we always find our way back to one another’?

Yet, Oliver telling the world they were ‘friends, first and foremost,’ especially after all they had shared last night, put a sour taste in Felicity’s mouth.

It was completely irrational. 

_Insanely_ so.

Especially since Felicity could hear reporters yelling out questions about Billy Malone. Questions Oliver blatantly ignored.

Felicity could see the headline now, ‘Former CEO, Felicity Smoak, cheats on boyfriend with ex, infamous cheater, Oliver Queen. A match made in adultery heaven.’

Actually, she was pretty sure she had heard that one on one of the other networks before she’d settled on this one.

At least with _this one_ Felicity got to hear Oliver say on repeat, “ _Look, every single person there was a victim. Every person was given a powerful psychoactive drug_ against their will _and is now dealing with severe trauma. I know, given the nature of the drug, many people will feel the impulse to make jokes and pass judgements, but these are people who are dealing with sexual trauma, and I urge you…no, I_ expect _the people of Star City to treat the victims with the utmost respect_.”

Felicity loved every word that emerged from Oliver’s mouth. They were perfect. But…

She didn’t feel like a victim. 

What happened last night wasn’t traumatic. Not to her. 

It was _wonderful_.

And Felicity felt disgustingly guilty about it. Two hundred people had undergone sexual trauma and two had…not.

Don’t get her wrong, it had been painful. So _fraking_ painful. But when Felicity thought back on it, she was grateful for every single minute.

Which made her feel like crap. Because it felt like being grateful to her rapist.

Felicity had to remind herself that wonderful things came out of tragedy. Just the other day, she had read a story about how a man who had survived 9/11 got back together with his ex-girlfriend because of it and now they were married with two kids and instead of working as an investment banker, he was an English Teacher.

This was just like that, right? It wasn’t her and Oliver’s fault they had found something good in this horrible event?

No, it wasn’t. 

It was _not_.

Then Felicity remembered Billy.

The tv switched back to the local anchors. Felicity was only half-listening. And then…

“You know, Brian, as horrible as the events of last night were, I know there are a lot of people out there hoping this will mean Olicity sails again. If you are new to our city or were just living under a rock for the last year and a half, our producers have put together a short compilation of Olicity’s greatest moments. A Star City Love Story, in the Wake of Tragedy—”

“Ughhh!!!”

Felicity turned off the tv with as much violence as she could manage and flopped back onto the hospital bed.

She supposed she should be grateful they were spinning this as romantic, instead of solicitous. But neither was making it any easier.

This wasn’t a game. Too many people’s hearts were at stake. Well, three people’s hearts were at stake. Felicity really doubted Susan William’s _heart_ had anything to do with it. If she even had one.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t fair, but Felicity had more important things to worry about. Like minimizing any pain she caused Billy and Oliver. And, well, figuring out who did this, finding them, preventing them from doing it again…

But, God, couldn’t _ARGUS_ handle that? Just for a little while? 

Either way, she was running out of time. Whether Lyla took point for a half a day or twelve, Felicity needed to make a decision, before anyone got hurt any worse than they had to. Including herself.

Except she’d made her decision. She’d made it last night.

Felicity knew exactly what she had to do. She had to find Billy and make this right. Correct her mistake.

She needed to break up with him as quickly and cleanly as she could. Only then could Felicity seek out Oliver. It was the only fair option. For any of them.

God, this sucked. Felicity had always thought the dumper had it easier than the dumpee, but this felt like the hardest thing in the world. To just walk up to someone, someone who had just been through _sexual trauma_ and break their heart, when he hadn’t done a _thing_ wrong. 

No wonder teenage boys dumped girls over text. Felicity could barely handle the complex emotions this brought up, how was anyone to expect an adolescent (an adolescent boy no less) to be able to handle it.

In fact, sending a text sounded like an awesome plan. 

If only Felicity’s phone hadn’t been smashed in an orgy stampede.

“Ah, I see you’ve changed,” her least favorite nurse intoned as she burst into the room without knocking.

Felicity ground her teeth and tried to suppress a snippy response. She’d put her borrowed clothing back on the second the iv had been detached. Sitting there in a hospital gown only served to remind her how much more comfortable she was _naked_ with Oliver, compared to wearing an ill-fitting hospital gown with anyone else.

“Hoping to visit one of our other patients, hmm?” Holly (yes, her name was actually Holly. On Christmas Eve. Felicity couldn’t make this stuff up) all but leered, giving her a wink.

And, yeah, that was why _Holly_ was Felicity’s least favorite nurse.

“I’m hoping to be discharged,” Felicity corrected, trying (and failing) at a polite smile. “Any chance that will be happening soon?”

Holly’s knowing smile made Felicity’s skin crawl. “After Dr. Schwartz goes over your test results.”

“And that will be…?”

“When she gets to it.”

A veritable font of information, Holly the Overly Intrusive Christmas Nurse was. 

“For now…” Holly placed a small paper cup and a hospital water bottle in front of Felicity. The disposable cup was filled with brightly colored pills. “Eat up.”

“Santa handing out drugs instead of candy now?” Felicity muttered under her breath. “Glad I’m Jewish.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I _said_ ,” Felicity looked up and gave Holly what must have been the fakest smile that had ever graced her face, “what are _these_?” 

“Medicine,” Holly replied without a hint of irony.

Just when Felicity started to feel bad for her irritable responses…

“Do your other patients take whatever medication you give them without asking what it is?”

The blank look Holly gave her made Felicity think it was upsettingly common. But still, the nurse didn’t volunteer any information.

Suppressing a very Oliver-like growl, Felicity bit out, “What are _these for_?”

“Oh it’s just the standard rape-kit prophylaxis cocktail,” Holly said. The way she’d say, ‘just a little Tylenol for your headache’.

Seriously, this sort of thing required a slightly better bed-side manner. Did the other _actually_ traumatized victims have to deal with this?

“There are seven…no _eight_ pills here,” Felicity snapped.

Sighing, as if Felicity were a difficult child, Holly leaned over and looked over the pills. “Most of them are antibiotics and anti-virals. To prevent STDs.”

Oh.

“And, of course, Plan B.”

Felicity’s eyes widened and her heart rate accelerated as she looked down at the pills with new respect.

God, she hadn’t even considered…hadn’t thought once…

Felicity had never had unprotected sex in her life.

Until last night.

It hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“I don’t have to worry about STDs,” Felicity murmured, staring at the pills, trying to decide which one was Plan B. 

And if she figured it out…then what?

“Really?” Holly sounded positively gleeful. “How do you know that?”

Felicity snapped her eyes to that cheshire cat grin and let out the growl she’d been suppressing. “You’re bound by Patient Confidentiality, aren’t you?”

The nurse went white. Her smile disappeared.

“You could lose your job if anyone outside this hospital found out anything you saw or heard, yes?” It was more a threat than a question. Because the last thing they needed in the middle of this mess was a nosy nurse spreading rumors about which of the rape kit pills Felicity took.

“Outside the hospital, yes,” Holly stuttered, stepping back. “But…”

“I really don’t think gossiping with your hospital friends is the same as sharing vital medical information with colleagues, do you?” A woman this keen on ferreting out dirt didn’t do it to keep the information to herself. Felicity went in for the kill. “I’m pretty sure the courts will agree.”

Holly shook her head. “I wouldn’t…”

Wouldn’t she though?

“If any of this gets out,” Felicity got to her feet and hissed, “I’ll assume it came from you.”

There may have been tears in the nurse’s eyes and Felicity started to wonder if she was being a bit harsh, venting her stress over the situation on this woman. 

Then Dr. Schwartz arrived, saving them both.

The doctor quickly took in the situation and gave the nurse a warm smile and a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Holly, I’ll take over now.”

The nurse ran (actually _ran_ ) from the room and Felicity slumped back onto the edge of the bed, shrinking a little under the doctor’s knowing gaze. 

“Well, Ms. Smoak, I do believe you managed to scare the staff even worse than Mr. Queen this time around.”

Felicity decided to ignore the first part and focus on the second, “Is Oliver…?”

She didn’t even know what she was asking.

“On the risk of a HIPPA violation for Doctor-Patient Confidentiality…” Dr. Schwartz’s eyes twinkled. So she’d heard that part, huh? “Oliver is fine. A little impatient, but overall relatively well behaved. _He_ hasn’t threatened my staff. Yet.”

Any contrition Felicity might have felt was overwhelmed by that _urge_. 

The almost undeniable compulsion to find Oliver.

But she couldn’t.

Not before she took care of matters with Billy.

And Felicity dreaded seeing Billy with the fires of a thousand hells.

It was quite the conundrum.

“If you’re worried about taking all these pills on an empty stomach…” Dr. Schwartz was saying and Felicity wondered how much she had missed during her wandering thoughts.

“No.” Felicity pushed the pills away. “I’m not taking them.”

She wondered when she’d made that decision. 

And if it was a good one.

The doctor’s eyes widened and they were a little too knowing for Felicity’s taste. She met Dr. Schwartz’s eyes and reminded herself that this was one doctor she trusted. “I wasn’t raped. I don’t need a rape kit or STD prophylaxis.”

Dr. Schwartz’s eyes softened. “Because you only had sex with Oliver. And you trust him.”

Felicity bit her lip and nodded. That was it in a nutshell.

“You’ve been broken up for awhile,” the doctor reminded her gently. “Are you sure—?”

“He told me…” Okay, not even Dr. Schwartz needed to know Oliver had confessed that he hadn’t been with anyone but her in years. “He said he’s clean. He’s clean.” Which wasn’t the _exact_ truth, so at least Felicity knew the last of the Truth Serum had worn off.

Which was good, cause…Billy. Felicity didn’t think he’d find her truths as soul affirming as Oliver had.

Thankfully, Dr. Schwartz didn’t question her faith in Oliver. She just nodded and asked, “Were you with it enough to use condoms? To know you used them _every_ time? For the purpose of contraception, I mean.”

Contraception.

Felicity almost choked. Her stomach flipped over and her mouth dropped open. She’d been with it enough to be sure they’d used condoms exactly never. But her mouth didn’t seem to be able to relay that information. 

“I didn’t think so.” 

Apparently, it didn’t need to.

The doctor was nothing but understanding as she added, “We took out your IUD when you were having surgery last year, did you have it replaced?”

Felicity shook her head. She’d meant to. After the implant was stable, but she’d never gotten to it.

“And you told us when you came in that you weren’t on any medication?”

Yup, she had. Felicity had stopped birth control pills months ago. They were a bitch to remember and she had absolutely no intention of having sex with Billy, or anyone, without a condom.

Anyone except Oliver. 

He was the only one she ever had and if she had her way he was the only one she ever would.

But now she’d had sex with Oliver without a condom or an IUD or the pill and that wasn’t something she had planned on doing. Not without a couple of years of marriage under their belt and a lot of discussion.

If possible, Dr. Schwartz’s eyes became even more gentle. “Felicity, do you want me to show you which pill is Plan B?”

Felicity chewed her lip. She knew what her answer should be. She knew this was a terrible time to risk having a baby. She was unemployed, not even technically _with_ the father.

_Prospective_ father.

It’s not like this was an inevitability. Just a possibility. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered. Because that was the only answer she had, really. 

Dr. Schwartz looked Felicity over for a moment before saying, “I know some people have moral objections—”

“It’s not that,” Felicity rushed to…rushed to what? She didn’t even know. “Look, if I had been down in the ballroom,” she shuddered at the mere idea, “I would have taken every pill in there without question. On an empty stomach, even.” That earned an amused smile from the doctor. “But this is different. This is….”

Felicity faltered and Dr. Schwartz saved her by supplying, “It’s Oliver.”

Chewing her (tender) lip, Felicity nodded. 

She was also sure that if this was Billy, she wouldn’t be hesitating either. In fact, she was pretty sure she would be panicking at the idea of unprotected sex with her (still) boyfriend.

Why wasn’t Felicity panicking?

“You’re not with Oliver?” Dr. Schwartz asked. Or reminded. One of those.

Felicity hesitated, because even though that was true…it didn’t _feel_ true. Not after last night. 

She tipped her head to the side, screwed up her lips and gave the doctor a half-shrug. Again, that was all the answer she had. For now anyway. Because in this, at least, she felt confident in the end game.

If Felicity took that pill it wasn’t because she wasn’t with the (prospective) father. That was only a small matter of time.

Hours, hopefully.

“I see,” the doctor said and Felicity wondered if she did. Could she?

“It’s kind of complicated,” Felicity added. The amusement in the doctor’s eyes was starting to get annoying. “So, eh, did you get the blood work back?”

Dr. Schwartz smiled, pulling out the tablet from under her arm. “Looks like you are perfectly healthy, Ms. Smoak. There were trace amounts of the gas in your blood when you first arrived, but none post-fluids.” 

Trace amounts. 

Of drug. 

Felicity had had the drug in her system. 

Which, duh. Obviously. But did that mean…? 

If for some reason they _had_ conceived last night…which of course Felicity didn’t want and was probably unlikely anyway…

“…you must have gotten a lower dose. Most of the other victims—”

“If I _was_ pregnant,” Felicity blurted before she could stop herself, “how would the drug affect the baby?”

The baby.

Felicity really shouldn’t be thinking that way. About a baby. It was at most a fetus. Not even, an embryo. An idea really.

A possibility. 

Dr. Schwartz’s eyes widened, assessing her. “Well, _if_ you conceived last night…”

Felicity swallowed, trying not to squeak.

“Then the embryo would only be a ball of cells, not even connected to your blood supply. So the drug is unlikely to affect it at all.”

Eyes falling closed, Felicity blew out a breath, ridiculously relieved.

“The drug could affect ovulation. Or implantation,” the doctor continued and Felicity’s eyes snapped back open, an even more ridiculous sinking sensation settled in her gut. “In other words, the drug could affect whether you conceive but not the health of the embryo if you did.”

So the chances of conceiving were even lower because of the drug. That was good, right?

“I understand the ovulation part, but implantation…?” Felicity asked, holding her breath. 

Because she was _insane_. 

“It means the pregnancy would end, before it really began,” Dr. Schwartz said, again in that super gentle voice. Did she use that with all her patients or just the ones that were losing their minds? “Which is exactly what would happen if you took Plan B.”

Felicity’s eyes went to the pills again and she nodded, feeling a little like she was under water.

End it before it began.

Why was that upsetting? Why was she even _considering_ this?

When Felicity lifted her eyes, Dr. Schwartz was waiting patiently, holding out her tablet. “Discharge paperwork. I’m just guessing here, but I’m assuming you would like to get out of here as soon as you can. It’s the first day of Hanukkah after all. Personally, I’m hoping to be home in time to light my menorah.”

Felicity took the tablet with a grateful smile. She hoped the doctor would get out of here soon too. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had been in this hospital for over 24 hours at this point.

When she was done with the electronic forms, Felicity looked up and found Dr. Schwartz going through the small cup of pills. 

When she was done, the doctor pushed the cup back in front of Felicity. There was only one pill left. Round and white. Completely nondescript.

“Plan B. Just in case you change your mind,” Dr. Schwartz told her. “It’s a big decision. I know you will think it through.”

Would she though? 

Gulping, Felicity nodded anyway, taking the cup in her hand. “Dr. Schwartz—”

A knock at the door interrupted them.

So Felicity knew it wasn’t Nurse Holly. She never knocked.

“Can I come in?”

Billy.

Frak.

Dr. Schwartz lowered her voice and whispered, “Do you want me to…?”

The tone of her voice made Felicity worry that that last frak was out loud, but it didn’t matter. She shook her head. She needed to deal with this. Get it over with.

Only then could she go to Oliver.

With that in mind, Felicity asked, “Can you just make sure Holly…?”

Dr. Schwartz squeezed Felicity’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure you have some privacy.” She smiled at Billy on the way out. “Detective, good to see you back to yourself.”

“Thanks to you, doc,” he replied. Like the stand-up guy he was.

Double frak.

Dr. Schwartz closed the door behind her and Felicity crumpled the cup in her hand. 

“Felicity,” Billy breathed and opened his arms, coming toward her and…

_Fuck_.

She felt a brief but intense surge of panic. 

But really, she had no choice. Felicity stood and hugged Billy back, Plan B crushed in her fist, as she tried to figure out how quickly she could end the contact without it being seen as a rejection. 

Though that was what this was. 

Rejection. 

There was no other way to spin breaking up with someone. But that didn’t mean Felicity couldn’t do it gently. Whatever the hell _that_ meant. 

Irregardless, Billy had to be able to feel how tense she was. “Are you okay?” he finally murmured into her hair and Felicity took it as permission to finally detangle herself.

“Yeah. I….” 

Felicity would probably be pretty good if it weren’t for the fact that she was about to break his heart and the guilt was suffocating her.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t true. Felicity could be overreacting. Being arrogant even. How attached could Billy be? He barely knew her really.

Felicity managed to meet his eyes and…

Crap. She was going to break his heart. How did she even get herself into these situations? 

Swallowing, she stepped back and croaked, “I’m fine. How are you?”

Super smooth. Also that fake smile felt extra wrong after last night.

Billy blew out a breath, his eyes clouding. “Better now that you’re here.”

_Wonderful_.

He took Felicity’s hand (the one not clutching an emergency contraceptive) and led her over to sit down. It looked like he was approaching the bed, but she swerved and sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair instead, forcing Billy to do the same.

If he noticed, Felicity couldn’t tell.

“When I first came to, they said you were missing,” Billy told her in a quiet, caring tone that made Felicity want to vomit.

“Nope, not missing.” Felicity shook her head, trying to ignore the sinking suspicion… “Billy, have you seen the news?”

Billy scoffed. “Turned it on for like a minute. Absolute garbage. My buddies at the SCPD filled me in on everything.”

Obviously not _everything_.

Well, wasn’t this just fantastic? Felicity had hoped Billy would at least have some background information on the situation.

Okay, if she were being completely honest with herself, Felicity had secretly hoped that Billy would be so furious about her disappearing with Oliver that _he_ would break up with _her_.

Frak, that would be so much easier.

Swallowing, Felicity asked tentatively, “What did they tell you?”

Best to know what she was dealing with, right?

Billy turned bright red and for a moment Felicity was confused. What did _he_ have to be embarrassed by…

Oh. 

Oh, yeah. 

He’d participated in an _orgy_.

Now if it had been voluntary, that fact would alleviate Felicity’s guilt. But, no, the poor man had been given a date rape drug, lost his memory, and was about to be dumped. All in time for Christmas.

Happy Holidays!

Frak, frak, _frak_. 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Billy squirmed in his seat. “You know…the gas…you do know what the gas does, right?”

Did she know what the gas did? Ha!

Pressing her lips together, Felicity nodded. “I do.”

Billy looked relieved. Poor guy, he had no idea. 

“Good. I mean, not good. My buddies they…eh…”

Was it this painful when _Felicity_ babbled?

“They told me what they saw in the ballroom. How they found me.” Billy swallowed and looked away. “How I needed to be sedated. So…”

Felicity gripped his hand in sympathy. That came naturally at least. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. None of this was your fault. You aren’t responsible for your actions last night.”

“Yeah, well.” Billy didn’t look convinced but he did look grateful.

“What do you remember?” Felicity asked softly. She needed something to build on and…maybe some time to figure out how to soften the blow.

Billy’s laugh was brittle. “I remember the party. You. Then talking to the Chief of Police at the buffet and…a white out. Screaming. Then waking up here.”

Great. Felicity knew more about what happened to Billy than Billy did. Irrational or not, it just made her feel _more_ guilty. “So it’s all…blank?”

“No, I…” Billy blew out a breath and looked away. “I remember…it’s like trying to recall a really weird dream. All you can catch are bits and pieces and they’re all mixed up. None of it seems exactly real. I’m not even sure what parts _are_ real, if any. I guess I’ll never know.”

“Do you want to?” Felicity asked in a tiny voice.

Billy gave her a confused look and Felicity wondered if she should have kept her mouth shut. But whatever they were to each other, she did care about him and wanted this horrible mess to be as easy for him as possible.

And if it were her, Felicity would want to know.

She gulped and told him, “There’s video. I…uh…saw it when I first got to Ol…the mayor’s office. We were trying to contact help. Make sure everyone—”

“You were in the mayor’s office?” Billy’s brow crinkled and his eyes…frak, his eyes shown with hurt. And this was just the beginning. “Why?” 

And now for the fun part.

Shoot her now.

“I wasn’t…after the gas was released, I…uh, _we_ escaped to the mayor’s office, trying to outrun the gas.” Nothing could be gained from keeping any of this from him, right?

“We?”

No one could claim Billy was a fool. Squaring her shoulders, Felicity forced herself to look into his eyes, “I—”

But apparently, Felicity didn’t answer quickly enough, because Billy finished for her, “You and the mayor.”

“Yes.”

“ _Just_ you and the mayor. Your ex-fiancé?”

“Yes.”

“Alone in his office?”

“Uh huh.” Was there something else she could say? Something that would make this end?

Felicity forced herself to hold his eyes as the dawning knowledge in Billy’s eyes brought more and more hurt. It was awful but she owed him that much.

“Did you…? Did you actually outrun the gas?” Poor man seemed desperate to find a conclusion other than the correct one. 

“Uh, we got less.” Should Felicity be more specific? Jump to the punchline? Would that make it better? Or even worse?

“So you weren’t…” Billy trailed off and judging by the look on his face, the guilty look on _her_ face must have said it all. Because the last tinge of hope faded from his eyes.

His hand fell from hers and it was actually a relief. Billy hung his head, his elbows on his knees, as if he were trying to keep the world from spinning. 

It was horrible.

Felicity reminded herself she needed to see this through to the end and than she could go see Oliver.

Just a little longer.

“Okay…okay…” Then Billy’s eyes snapped up and he asked, “Felicity, did you see _me_ on that video?”

Just when she thought this couldn’t get any more awkward.

Felicity scrunched up her face and nodded.

If possible, Billy looked more horrified by that news than the fact that she had been holed away with Oliver for the whole orgy-thing. 

“Shit!” he spat, under his breath. Then he stood, pacing away from her.

“If it’s any consolation, you looked like you were enjoying yourself,” Felicity offered with zero sarcasm or bitterness. After all, _she_ had found it comforting last night.

Now, not so much. 

Billy turned and looked at her with wide-eyed horror and…maybe that had been the _worst_ possible thing to say. God, Felicity _sucked_ at this. Maybe she should have text-dumped him after all. 

A myriad of emotions flashed in Billy’s eyes, none of which Felicity wanted to interpret or even see. It took all her will power to keep hers open.

Running a hand over his face, Billy finally asked, “Did you and…your ex _enjoy_ yourselves?”

There might have been a little sarcasm and bitterness in _his_ tone.

It was well deserved too.

Felicity winced. How did she answer that? Sugarcoat the truth or yank off the bandaid? What was the kindest?

“I—”

“Never mind.” Billy put up a hand to stop her. “You don’t have to answer that.”

Didn’t she though? It was certainly relevant.

Billy paced away from her and than back again. Finally, he faced her and blurted out, “Felicity, do you still have feelings for the mayor?”

Felicity almost laughed out loud. There was no greater understatement.

Luckily, she managed to restrain herself and answer with a clear, “Yes.”

The truth, pure and simple.

It didn’t make Billy’s reaction any easier to watch.

Though, maybe this would be it. The end. Maybe Billy would be so upset he’d stomp out or…this was how things had ended with Ray. It was eerie how similar it was, actually. Almost deja vu. 

Ray had guessed that Felicity was in love with Oliver, she hadn’t denied it, and…poof their relationship was over.

Please God, make it that easy this time.

“Okay. Okay,” Billy started to mutter, sounding only a _tiny_ bit deranged. 

Then he threw himself back into the chair next to her and snatched up both of Felicity’s hands. Including the one clutching the paper cup and pill.

So, this was just a guess, but Felicity was thinking… _not easy_.

“It’s okay,” Billy told her, looking intently into her eyes.

But was it? Was it really?

Felicity had a sneaking suspicion their definitions of ‘okay’ were very different. At least in this case.

“Like you said, we were drugged,” Billy argued and Felicity’s stomach sank further and further with each consecutive word. “We weren’t responsible for our actions. Nothing that happened last night is our fault so…we can put it all behind us. It’s not like we even remember—”

“I remember,” Felicity interrupted. Because it was the first thing her mind could clearly produce to stop this runaway train. She could see the crash coming and it was wretched.

Billy ground to a halt. That was something at least. “You…”

Felicity nodded, forcing herself to not pull her hands away. She didn’t hold them back either. “I remember. Everything.”

Could he see, in her eyes, how all encompassing _everything_ was?

Swallowing, Billy looked away, so maybe he did. “That uh…that’s good.”

Felicity could only nod, though she didn’t think Billy saw. He was staring at the tile floor.

“It still doesn’t change anything,” he insisted.

Felicity bit her lip. Hard. 

It changed _everything_.

“We just need to put this behind us,” Billy began while Felicity tried to figure out how to explain this to him. “Nothing’s changed. So you have feelings for your ex-fiancé. And being stuck with him in such an…intimate situation…it’s understandable that it brought that back up. But all the reasons you left him in the first place are still there.”

Actually, they weren’t.

Not a _single_ reason Felicity had held onto to keep Oliver at bay held any water. Not any longer.

He trusted her. 

He respected her.

He’d voluntarily given her his deepest secrets.

And, most importantly, he’d stayed.

Felicity had shared the darkest parts of herself, her anger and her weaknesses, her secrets and lies. She had made herself utterly vulnerable and Oliver had _stayed_.

God, she wanted to be with him.

Right the frak now.

“Billy…” Felicity shifted uncomfortably in her seat. No amount of certainty that she belonged with Oliver made this easy. She squeezed his hand, just once, and pulled hers away, letting his drop. “I haven’t been fair to you. I should have been honest with you from the beginning about my feelings for Oliver.”

Billy flinched at the name but pushed forward with, “I don’t expect you to—”

This needed to end. Felicity needed to _end_ this.

“I wasn’t emotionally available,” Felicity told him, as gently as she could manage. “Not then and not now. Not for the kind of relationship you want. Or deserve.”

“ _Felicity_ , we’re good together.”

If they ignored the fact that she was pretending to be happy for the majority of it. Frak.

Shaking her head, Felicity had to close her eyes to block out the pain, the desperation on Billy’s face.

Did Billy even know her? Beyond the shiny veneer? Beyond what Felicity wanted him to see? Would he even like her if he knew the real her?

“You deserve more,” Felicity insisted. It was the kinder thing to say.

But it only seemed to fuel his desperation, Billy leaned closer and Felicity crossed her arms and stood, stepping back. 

To keep him from trying to take her hand again. The crumpled cup containing the pill felt like a red-hot poker in her hand. 

“Look, I get you feel guilty,” Billy argued, standing as well. “You’re a good person so _of course_ you feel guilty, but we can put this behind—”

“ _Billy_!” God, Felicity wished he’d stop. She steeled her jaw. “I can’t be with you. Not with the way I feel about Oliver. It’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to… _anyone_.” Least of all herself.

That got the first sign of real anger from Billy.

It was a welcome sight.

“What I _deserve_ …” Billy snapped, but than stopped abruptly and seemed to center himself, pulling up tall. He really wasn’t a very big man, was he? “We need to take some time. The things you saw on the video, the things you did…it’ll take time to process it all.”

Time.

It wasn’t an unreasonable request.

But time wasn’t going to change anything and Felicity wasn’t willing to waste any more of hers without Oliver. 

Or keep Oliver hanging one more minute than she had to.

Felicity took the amount of time it took to walk over to the trash can and throw away the crumpled cup. The relief she felt once it was out of her hand was dizzying.

She turned and squared her shoulders, taking in Billy’s wild-eyed look. What would it take to make him understand?

“I’ve processed this, Billy,” Felicity told him. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

“You don’t know that. Just take some time—”

To drag out the torture?

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head, trying to convey just how certain she was.

“Felicity, _please_ , just—”

“I _can’t_ be with you,” Felicity repeated, keeping her voice firm and level. 

Billy turned on his heal, pacing away from her. A part of Felicity hoped he’d walk right out the door. A _big_ part.

Please.

Anything for this to end.

But before he got to the door, Billy turned back to her. “I don’t accept that. We need some time. I…we’ll talk about this after we’ve taken some time.”

Then, before Felicity could say a thing, Billy disappeared out the door.

Felicity couldn’t help but wince. That could have gone better.

Did Billy just…refuse to be broken up with? Could he do that? Was a break-up not official unless both people acknowledged it?

Felicity really didn’t think that was the way things worked. Or half of high school relationships would never end. 

But, God, that’d been _brutal_.

“You, okay, hon?” Holly asked from the doorway and, surprisingly, she looked sympathetic and not just like she was looking for dirt.

“Yeah,” Felicity sighed. “Fine.” 

Sympathetic or not, Holly didn’t need details.

“Well, you’re all set to go,” Holly wisely didn’t press. “Your friend, Rory, left this at the nurses’ station for you.”

The nurse handed Felicity a winter coat and one of her purses that she’d left at the Bunker. Inside the bag were a pair of running shoes, a new phone, her glasses, and even a brush and hair ties.

“Rory, you _angel_.”

Holly chuckled and handed Felicity her discharge papers. “When you’re ready, Mr. Queen is in room 612. And don’t worry about the press. They won’t get anything from us.” 

Then, with an embarrassed smile, Holly scurried from the room, leaving Felicity to wonder if Dr. Schwartz was responsible for the change in attitude.

Room 612.

An intense craving rolled through her. To see Oliver. To have his arms around her. And it wasn’t the slightest bit sexual.

Felicity was free.

God, that sounded awful. As if Billy had been a prison sentence.

But no matter how it sounded, it felt good. Because now Felicity could go to Oliver and make any promise she wanted.

Felicity pulled on the running shoes and quickly switched her contacts out for glasses, feeling another wave of relief as the uncomfortable things left her eyes. 

Then she slipped out of the room without a backward glance.

It was easy to find room 612. Felicity knew this hospital far too well.

Luckily, she didn’t barge right into Oliver’s room though.

Luckily, she paused when she heard a voice.

A very specific voice.

Felicity stood, frozen, as Susan Williams got up on her toes and whispered something in Oliver’s ear, then pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Fighting the urge to storm in and do something ridiculous, like yank the pushy reporter away from Oliver by her hair, Felicity barely had time to duck back behind the wall as Susan turned with a flounce and strode out of the room. She looked pretty pleased with herself too.

Bitch.

Jealousy churned and for a brief moment Felicity considered whether or not what she had just seen changed anything. If she still wanted to go in there.

Yes. 

The answer was: yes, she did.

Felicity didn’t know what _that_ was, but she trusted Oliver and that was all that mattered. She turned and stepped into the threshold.

Oliver was sitting on the edge of the bed, running a hand over his face and looking utterly exhausted.

Felicity cleared her throat. “So…”

His head snapped up and his entire face transformed at the sight of her, the tiredness draining away. It made Felicity’s heart flutter and her tummy warm. Her insecurities dissipated.

So she wasn’t sure why she gestured over her shoulder and asked, “ _What_ was that?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In no way did I intend (or even consider) this to be a political statement. In any way. The discussion of Plan B, which is offered to most sexual assault victims in the hospital, is here because 1) I think it is a very real part of the aftermath and 2) to explore how I feel Felicity would think about taking it, specifically related to who her partner was.
> 
> When I first envisioned that part of the story, I planned it being subtle. Then I realized you guys were way to smart for that, so I went all in. 
> 
> Now, why did I feel the need to show the whole ugly break-up with Billy? I guess, for the same reason I felt the need to discuss the rape-kit. As absurd as the idea of Sex Pollen is, this story is (ironically) an attempt at a raw, honest, and _realistic_ take on it. Because of this, I didn’t feel like I could brush over the fall-out.
> 
> That being said, I have no desire to prolong it either. And despite the way this ended, I’ll reiterate my promise that there will be no unnecessary drama. There is barely any rewind into the next chapter, just enough to see where Oliver’s head is at. Billy was enough, you don’t have endure Susan as well. (Though I plan to have some fun with her in the Afterward).
> 
> I’m really enjoying replying to comments with Olicity gifs and I hope you are enjoying them too, though you guys have been so wonderful that I’m running out of unique ones. This chapter I’m going to use as many Stemily gifs as I can find. Many of you know I’m not a fan of shipping RL people. I’m all about the fictional ships, but Emily and Stephan are still adorable so yeah.
> 
> Another rousing THANK YOU from everyone who came out to support me last week! I hope to hear from you all again, but either way, happy reading!


	15. What We’re Left With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Valentine’s Day, Christmas, and Hanukkah…all winter holidays really. It’s never too late to celebrate?

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 15: What We’re Left With**

Why Susan Williams?

Felicity had asked him that last night and Oliver hadn’t given much of an answer. He didn’t have a better one now. Even though the question had dogged him during his entire… _encounter_ with Susan. 

She’d come to visit him in his hospital room and as she talked all Oliver could think was…why?

The thing that was absolutely clear was that Oliver felt _nothing_ for this woman. 

Not affection. Not sympathy, nor dislike. Standing there with her, he couldn’t even find the slightest tingle of attraction.

Had it always been that way? Surely, he’d at least felt _some_ attraction when he asked her out? Right?

Oliver hoped so, because if not…had he really fallen so low that all it had taken was a smile and a kind word to draw him in? Had he been _that_ lonely?

Yes. Yes, he had.

Though Oliver supposed it was better to be _that_ pathetic than that he had subconsciously been using Susan, thinking that if he was dating her the press would be kinder to his administration.

Oliver _did_ find himself measuring his words as he spoke to her, carefully choosing things that couldn’t be used against him or anyone he cared about. Ever aware that he was speaking to a journalist.

It was clear he didn’t trust her so…why? Oliver hadn’t consciously asked her out for good press, but after last night he had to wonder if that sort of behavior wasn’t imprinted in the Queen DNA. Could he ever completely escape it?

The idea made Oliver slightly nauseous and even more desperate for Susan to leave. 

Before Felicity showed up.

_If_ Felicity showed up.

Leave so Oliver could go _find_ Felicity.

Was he allowed to do that?

Should Oliver give her more time? Felicity had implied he hadn’t fought for her in the past and he sure as hell didn’t want to make that mistake again, but he didn’t want to smother her either. 

Susan didn’t respond to Oliver’s attempts to shut things down between them the way he expected. _At all._ But then she was leaving (thank God) and it could have been a whole hell of a lot worse, so he kept his mouth shut and let her leave.

When Susan was _finally_ gone, Oliver slumped against the hospital bed and rubbed his eyes. Now all he had to do was decide if he was going to seek out Felicity or—

“So…”

Wait for her to come to him. 

Oliver opened his eyes to see a vision in yoga pants and a green hoodie. Back in her ponytail and glasses, Felicity Smoak was a goddess amongst mere mortals.

And so familiar it made his heart hurt.

“What was _that_?”

And then Oliver realized Felicity must have seen Susan’s little display.

_Fuck_.

Now what?

The first answer that popped into Oliver’s brain: Panic.

Then he met Felicity’s eyes and they weren’t accusing, they were…curious. And he knew what he had to do. One thing had gotten Oliver this far. Gotten him this second chance. 

The truth.

Taking a deep breath, he met Felicity’s eyes and said, “ _That_ was me telling Susan William’s I wasn’t available because I still had feelings for my ex-fiancé and…”

Felicity’s eyes got warm as she sucked her lower lip between her teeth in that adorable way she did. 

But Oliver really didn’t think she was going to like the second half of his confession as much. He sucked in a breath and swallowed. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open as he admitted the rest, “And Susan telling me that emotions didn’t have to have anything to do with it. That she would be happy to help me _recover_ from the break-up in any way I wanted.”

When she didn’t immediately respond, Oliver chanced a peak at Felicity. He could only interpret the look on her face as disgust.

God dammit.

Quickly, Oliver added, “It’s not like I’m going to take her up on it. Or even consider it.” If he was being really honest, he’d barely paid attention to what Susan was saying. He’d been completely preoccupied with thoughts of Felicity. “She left before I could say anything and since that was what I wanted, her leaving, I mean…”

Shit. 

Had that been wrong? Should he have shut her down more completely? Or would that have done more harm than good? Susan William’s could do a _lot_ of damage if Oliver insulted her and…

But Felicity’s expression turned amused, so he mustn’t have messed up that badly. She moved closer, coming to lean against the bed next to him, and just her nearness had Oliver’s muscles unwinding.

“Well, it could have been worse,” Felicity said in a breezy kind of way that was anything but. “Susan could have responded the way Billy did.”

Oliver’s eyes flew to her face, taking in her profile carefully, the air freezing in his lungs. Did that mean…? Had Felicity…?

He was afraid to put into words the hope that sprang up, even in his own mind. Oliver couldn’t afford to jump to conclusions. This was too important. It meant too much.

Felicity wasn’t even allowing him to look into her eyes for answers. She had them fixed on the floor in front of her. She chewed roughly on her bottom lip and Oliver had to clench his fists to fight the impulse to free it.

When Felicity didn’t elaborate, Oliver forced himself to say, “Ummm…how did Billy…” he cleared his throat, “take _it_?”

A smile fluttered on the edges of Felicity’s lips and even without her looking at him, Oliver could see amusement brighten her eyes.

“ _Well_ , he told me the gas had me confused and I shouldn’t make any rash decisions.”

Fuck. That was reasonable. Disgustingly so.

“He said even if I did still have feelings for you…”

Oliver’s stomach turned over and filled with a thousand butterflies.

“…that the reasons I broke up with you hadn’t changed.”

His heart leapt, then plummeted at such a rapid pace, Oliver was left on the verge of hurling.

“Then,” Felicity finally lifted her eyes to Oliver’s, a long-suffering, exasperated look on her face, “he said that he didn’t ‘accept it’ and stomped out before I could argue.”

Oliver was having trouble breathing. What the hell did _that_ mean?

Then Felicity met his eyes and asked, almost pleading, “He can’t do that, right? Refuse my break-up? Because I was _very_ clear. I said, ‘I can’t be with you. I’m sorry.’ Twice, I’m pretty sure. The only way I could have been more clear was if I said, ‘I’m breaking up with you. We are officially _broken up._ ’ Should I have said that? I’m not really clear on the protocol.”

Eyes fluttering closed for just a second, Oliver let out a soft chuckle. Thank fucking _God_. That’d been quite the roller coaster. It left him dizzy. 

Oliver allowed himself a moment to absorb it all, process it. To make sure it was real. As he did, he couldn’t help the slow smile that spread across his face.

Then he saw the anxiety in Felicity’s expression…

“It sounds like you were perfectly clear,” Oliver tried to keep his voice soft and even, to not crow with glee. “And, no, he can’t refuse to break up with you. It takes two to start a relationship but only one to end it.” He swallowed and added dryly, “If it didn’t, I never would have let you leave me.”

A smile skittered across Felicity’s features. She spread her hands on the bed and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “No. You wouldn’t have forced me into a relationship I didn’t want. You respect my wishes too much.”

Why did that make Oliver’s eyes burn? Her faith was humbling. Something he had taken for granted in the past but now…it felt fresh and new. Like there had been holes he hadn’t known about, but now they’d all been filled in and the difference was staggering.

Oliver found himself turning away and blinking rapidly, though he wasn’t sure why. What did he care if Felicity saw him getting emotional? It wasn’t like she wouldn’t see right through hm anyway.

“I doubt Detective Malone would force you into a relationship either,” Oliver whispered once he had control of himself. 

And if he tried, Oliver would kick his ass. _Gladly_. It might even be fun.

Felicity shrugged, still staring at the ugly hospital ceiling tiles. “Breaking up with someone sucks. You’d think telling someone you have feelings for someone else would be enough, you know? Ray was just like, ‘You’re in love with Oliver and not me,’ and I was like, ‘yeah, sorry.’ Then he was all, ‘Okay, guess it’s over. Here’s the keys to my jet. See you when you get back from Nanda Parbat.’ Why can’t it always be like that?”

Oliver laughed and it might have been a little too exuberant. He was starting to feel giddy as well as dizzy. “Ray was… _is_ a very special person.”

Felicity screwed up her lips and nodded, repeating, “Breaking up with people sucks.”

And he had to bite his lip, because he wanted to say, ‘You never have to do it again. Be with me. Be my always and neither of us will ever have to go through that again.’

Oliver wanted to say it so badly it burned his tongue. 

But he didn’t. It wasn’t time for that. Not yet.

God, he hoped it would be soon.

Flopping back on the hard hospital bed, Felicity rolled her head to the side to look at Oliver and asked seriously, “How do you do it? Surely, Ollie Queen had some suave way of breaking girl’s hearts.”

Oliver laughed again and this time it was harsh as well as surprised. “I didn’t break up with them.”

The look Felicity gave him was pure disbelief.

“I broke up with _one_ girl when I was fourteen,” Oliver explained. “It was _horrible_. She was hysterical. I _hated_ it. After that, if I wanted out of a relationship I just acted like a tool until they broke up with me.”

Felicity’s jaw dropped. “That’s terrible.” She punctuated it with an accusing finger pointed at his chest.

Oliver pointed right back. “I agree.”

He was worried for a moment, but Felicity dissolved into laughter and laid back on the bed, smiling up at the ceiling. “I can’t say I don’t see the appeal. Texting was starting to look _really_ good. I’m glad I didn’t ask you for advice though.”

A laugh burst out. Just the idea of Felicity asking him for advice on how to break up with another man it…filled Oliver with joy. “My advise might have been a little biased.” He twisted to look at her, pretty sure he was staring down at her with a completely love sick expression. “You most likely have more experience than me at dumping anyway.”

Oliver was surprised when Felicity shook her head, smiling back up at him. “Not really. I was always the ‘dumpee.’”

He frowned. The idea didn’t compute. Then Oliver said without thinking, “You dumped _me_.”

Immediately, he wished he could call the words back. Was there a stupider thing to say? To bring up? The last thing he wanted was to remind her of the worst time in their relationship.

Felicity gave Oliver a sardonic, lopsided smile. “That was different. I was so filled with pain and righteous rage that I didn’t have to think about it. I was too angry to worry about hurting you. I just said it and left. Easy.”

Oliver winced. “Easy?”

“Well, then I went to Curtis’ apartment and cried for 48 hours straight. So…” Felicity shrugged, her eyes bright, like the confession was bittersweet, “painfully awkward break-up that leaves me feeling relieved or easy break up that leaves me a broken mess?” She held up her hands as if testing the balance.

But even the confirmation that what she felt for him was so much more than the detective, that she was relieved to have ended it, didn’t dampen Oliver’s horror and guilt at hearing how much pain Felicity had been in because of his actions.

That must have shown on his face because Felicity grabbed his hand and squeezed. “So, what now, Mr. Mayor?”

Oliver had to suppress a shiver at the ‘Mr. Mayor.’ Memories from last night washed over him. He’d have to tell her to be careful with that phrase in public if he didn’t want to make a habit of sporting inopportune erections.

But Felicity didn’t seem to notice as she asked, “Do you need to get back to City Hall or are we heading to the Bunker to track down a fan fiction obsessed super villain?”

Neither. Was ‘neither’ an acceptable response?

Oliver shook his head and gave a more measured answer, “It’s Saturday and Christmas Eve, so City Hall is closed and…Lyla stopped by.”

Felicity sat up, suddenly serious. “Did they find who did this?”

Oliver shook his head again. “No and…” He swallowed. He had no idea how Felicity was going to take this particular news. “She asked me to leave the investigation to ARGUS.”

Her mouth fell open and Oliver waited for the explosion.

It didn’t come.

Finally, Felicity said in a surprisingly weak voice, “Our city…”

She left it hanging, but Oliver had more to tell her. “Well…” This was where it got complicated. “It turns out this is the third incident. _This week_. Same scenario. Christmas party with high profile guests. Same gas. Same results.”

“What!?” _That_ was the tone Oliver had been waiting for. “How did we not know about this?”

It was an excellent question. Felicity always knew which ones to ask and Oliver didn’t know if the answers he had were adequate but he relayed what he knew, “The other parties were smaller, more exclusive, and easier to cover up. One was in Aspen, another Manhattan. Lyla doesn’t think there is a chance in hell that whoever did this is still in Star City. They’re probably across the country, or world, preparing for their next attack.”

Felicity gasped. “That’s awful.”

It was, which was why Oliver felt so guilty about the relief he felt having an excuse to hand this over to ARGUS.

His shoulders slumped and he rolled his neck, feeling the muscles tighten up again. “Yes, but as Lyla pointed out we have the very real local threat of Prometheus and I’m still mayor. We can’t very well go flying all over the world looking for this guy. ARGUS is much better suited for something on this scale.”

Oliver wasn’t sure how Felicity was going to take that, but she breathed a soft, “Yeah,” and looked down at her lap, “but it feels weird not to do _something_ about it.”

It did. 

But it also felt good to have someone else run point for once. He had other things he’d rather focus on at the moment and it wasn’t Prometheus.

Wow. That was a new one. Oliver couldn’t imagine himself thinking that a few years back, a few _months_ back even.

“Lyla said she’d let us know if there was anything we could do or if they come across anything that directly affects Star City.” Oliver swallowed. “I also made her promise to call us in for the take down.”

Felicity nodded. She was taking this far better than Oliver expected. “The city needs you here. Now more than ever.”

She laid her hand on his and…tentatively, carefully, barely breathing, Oliver turned his hand over and entwined his fingers with hers. He waited to see if Felicity would withdraw.

She didn’t.

Without a drug influencing her, Felicity let Oliver hold her hand. It was such a simple thing but it lifted the weight of the world off his chest.

Oliver couldn’t stop staring at their combined hands. As wonderful as it was, their fingers looked far too naked. 

But as much as he wanted to fix that, there were a lot of things they needed to talk about first, work out. Taking a deep breath, Oliver began, “So—”

“That’s it! I’m done with Christmas!” 

Thea stormed into the room, wearing what looked like hospital scrub bottoms and an SCPD sweatshirt, and ranted, “It’s official. I’m canceling the holiday. For _ever_. No more Christmas. No more holiday parties. I don’t care if you’re the mayor!”

Oliver didn’t know why, but he dropped Felicity’s hand like a guilty child as he sprung to his feet. Maybe because while he was fixated on his love life, his sister was suffering.

“Thea! Are you okay?” Oliver stepped toward her, opening his arms. It was all he could think to do to comfort her.

Collapsing against him, Thea grabbed a fist full of shirt and muttered into the cotton, “No. Didn’t you hear me? I’m _canceling_ Christmas!”

Okay, so maybe Oliver needed to rethink this whole leaving the investigation up to ARGUS plan. If Thea needed him to do something, he’d do whatever he had to. Felicity would understand.

Thea looked up at him and Oliver must have looked particularly murderous because her expression softened. “I’m fine. It’s not the first time I woke up with very little memory of what, and _who_ , I did the night before. Hell, it’s not the first Christmas.”

Fantastic. Just what Oliver wanted to hear from his baby sister. Very reassuring.

Oliver felt like he was swallowing saw dust when he said, “Thea…”

Just that. Thea. He had no idea what else he could say.

Thankfully, his sister didn’t seem to mind. She just gave Oliver a sympathetic pat on the chest and stepped out of his embrace to go and sit shoulder to shoulder with Felicity. Thea tried to give him a smile but it looked completely dejected.

Felicity wound her arm around the younger woman’s shoulders and said softly, “But it was the first time you didn’t _choose_ to take the substance that lead to the missing time.”

Oliver was briefly worried Thea would contradict Felicity’s words, but she nodded and he was able to breathe. Not that that made what happened to her last night any easier to deal with.

“True,” Thea murmured, laying her head on Felicity’s shoulder. “Thus the canceling of all the Christmases. The Christmas Season. The _entire_ thing.”

It made Oliver’s heart hurt to think about the happy little girl he had once known, who had challenged him to candy cane eating contests and set traps to catch Santa, giving up on the holiday all together.

Felicity laid her cheek on Thea’s head and sent Oliver a concerned glance. She understood. Somehow, she always did.

“I don’t think it’s Christmas’ fault that terrible things have happened,” Felicity argued. “If we start canceling every day were something terrible has happened in Star City, we’d have a very empty calendar. We’d have to get rid of the entire month of May.”

Thea laughed and it was genuine and affectionate and…

His girls.

His family.

Comforting each other.

Despite the circumstances, this was all Oliver wanted. All he needed. Watching them brought tears to his eyes, made him so emotional he couldn’t even speak.

Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“I’m not proposing we cancel the _date_ ,” Thea countered and she was starting to sound more playful and less haunted and that was entirely due to the miracle that was Felicity.. “Just…what if we spent the month of December, and May, in Aruba or Paris or… _anywhere_ that isn’t here. Under assumed names so no one can find us.”

Oliver chuckled. He hated to burst his sister’s bubble but… “Oh they’ll find us. Trust me. I know.” 

He of all people knew the appeal of running away. And the futility.

Thea glared, sticking out her tongue at him. “O-kay, Mayor Pessimism.”

It was hard not to smile, Thea was adorable. They both were. It was only the seriousness of what she had gone through that kept him from doing so.

“Besides,” Felicity added with her trademark cheerfulness (and Oliver figured it was only 50% forced), “how is it Christmas’ fault? If anything it’s December 23 that’s cursed. That’s the day I got shot and Oliver got skewered the year before and…I’m not helping am I?”

There was no hiding his grin this time. Oliver just hoped the look he sent her portrayed his appreciation. Felicity’s shy little smile let him hope she did.

Thea, on the other hand, turned to level Felicity with a look that made grown men cower. “The. Entire. Month. Of. December.”

Felicity bit her lip and Oliver jumped in to divert Thea’s glower to him, wheedling, “I was going to cook for you tomorrow. All your favorites.”

It worked. The refocusing on him at least. Thea turned to Oliver, tilting her head and frowning. “Yeah and the groceries were supposed to be delivered this morning and no one was there to answer the door sooo…”

Dammit. Thea kept her kitchen about as well stocked as Felicity. So much for his glazed duck and candied yam plans. “I’m sure we can—”

“Oh they’re closed now. All the grocery stores are. Until the day _after_ Christmas.” Thea’s look said, ‘have I convinced you yet or are you going to keep being stubborn?’

“You know what?” Felicity piped in. “There’s an Asian Market by the Loft. They’re open on Christmas. Oh and the Kosher kitchen down on 5th. They’ll have enough for Oliver to work his magic. I’ll host if you throw in a few latkes…”

She smiled at him (and this time he’d swear it was 100% real). Oliver swore he was seconds away from getting down on his knees. “I’ll even throw in some fresh sufganiyot,” he promised and his voice may have come out huskier than he intended.

But Felicity gasped and put her hand to her heart and Oliver just beamed at her, already planning how he would make the fresh jelly donuts. He was grateful that Hanukkah had come early last year and they had been able to spend that together before things had gone to hell with Darhk.

Thea narrowed her eyes and looked, first Oliver, then Felicity over. “Aren’t you planning to spend the holiday with your boyfriend?”

“Nope,” Felicity chirped, still smiling at Oliver and he wanted to kiss her so fucking bad. 

He hoped Felicity _would_ be spending the holiday with her boyfriend. _Him_. They just needed a little time to seal the deal.

If Oliver was reading her right.

Please, God, let him be reading her right.

“Hmmm,” Thea hummed, with suspicious eyes and the first glint of a smile on her lips. “That’s good then. We can go to the Loft and celebrate Hanukah with jelly donuts and Chinese take-out. And a movie marathon of the least Christmassy movies we can think of. What do you think? _Moana_? _Hawaii 5-0_? _Nightmare on Elm Street_? _Fiddler on the Roof_?”

This time, the look Felicity sent Oliver was wide-eyed and distressed. An anti-Christmas celebration was clearly not what she had in mind.

Oliver actually couldn’t care less what he did tomorrow as long as Felicity was there. Well, and Thea. And that they were both happy. 

But canceling Christmas didn’t seem like the best plan for long term happiness, so it looked like he needed to find a way to turn this car around. 

Crossing his arms, Oliver considered his strategy. “I don’t know, Speedy. That feels a lot like letting the bad guys win. Like giving up.”

Thea shot Oliver a supremely irritated look. One that said, ‘I know what you’re doing and it’s working, so fuck you!’

Felicity immediately jumped in, taking his lead, “Oliver’s right. Don’t let anyone take Christmas from you. Didn’t you love it as a kid?”

Thea’s only answer was an unenthusiastic shrug. 

“What?” Oliver wasn’t buying that one. He had a lot of very clear memories of a happy little sister during the holidays. “What are you trying to pull? Christmas was awesome when we were kids.”

“Christmas was awesome when _you_ were a kid,” Thea corrected, challenge in her eyes. “When you left, it became significantly _less_ great.”

_Shit_.

“Thea, I—”

“I’m not talking about the Gambit,” she cut in. “I’m talking about when you left for college.”

What?! Oliver had barely been _at_ college. 

“I was always home for the holidays,” Oliver defended, really confused now. Even when he didn’t drop out before Christmas, he was always home in time.

“Yeah, then you spent all your time partying with Tommy.”

Oh. Oliver’s mouth fell open. Was that true? “Speedy…”

Thea’s challenging look didn’t waver. “The last Christmas before you got on the Gambit, you left the Christmas Eve Party with Tommy before midnight and weren’t back until noon the next day.”

Okay, Oliver vaguely remembered that, but at the time it hadn’t felt like a big deal.

But now Felicity’s ‘you fucked up’ look was trained on him and Oliver found himself arguing, “You were a teenager, didn’t you like sleeping in?”

“I was eleven and not on Christmas morning! Plus, mom and dad got into a fight the night before and were barely speaking to one another.”

_Fuck_. Now Oliver didn’t even need Felicity’s disapproval to feel like shit. Wow, he’d been an inconsiderate asshole back then. 

Letting out a breath, Oliver rubbed a hand down his face. “Speedy, I’m so sorry—”

Thea waved off his apology. She didn’t seem angry, just…vindicated. “So, you see, giving up Christmas isn’t much of a hardship. Maybe I’ll take up Buddhism. I could use more Zen in my life.”

Okay, so Oliver fucked up. But that was just one Christmas and he remembered many many others where Thea had been a happy little ball of energy. So the last…decade of Christmas’ hadn’t been up to par and Oliver had a large part in that but that didn’t mean he was giving up. 

If anything it made Oliver twice as determined to give Thea a good Christmas _this_ year. And every year. And he couldn’t do that if the holiday was canceled. 

“Okay, clearly I messed up that time,” Oliver conceded. He was starting to learn the power of admitting his mistakes. “But the year before _that_ was a good Christmas.”

Shaking her head, Thea gave Oliver an indulgently condescending look. A ‘you have no idea what you’re talking about’ look.

But he did know what he was talking about. Oliver was sure of it. “Oh come on.” He wasn’t wrong on this one. “You remember. It snowed.”

That made Thea pause. He watched the recollection wash over her face. “Oh yeah.”

“It snowed on Christmas? In _Star City?_ ” Now it was Felicity’s turn to look disbelieving.

“Starling then, but yeah.” The memory was becoming clearer with every minute and it had Oliver smiling.

“Rarer than a blue moon,” Thea added, but he could see the beginnings of a smile on her face too.

“It only happened twice that I remember,” Oliver explained trying not to just stare at Felicity. This was about his sister too. “The first time Thea was just a baby and the second…you were ten, right?”

Thea nodded. “You were still out partying when it started,” she accused with a smile. But maybe teased would be a better word.

Oliver rolled his eyes, playing along. “I was back by like…midnight.”

Thea rolled her eyes right back, with a good-deal more drama. “The Queen Christmas Eve Party was over so it was probably closer to 1 or 2.”

“Whatever. Are you done?” Oliver asked his sister and Felicity laughed. He used this as an excuse to address her as he told the story, “It was snowing harder than I’d ever seen. In Starling, anyway. I came straight home and snuck into _this_ one’s bedroom and I—”

“Took me sledding,” Thea finished, finally showing a little of that childlike joy that was such a part of her but that had come out less and less often in recent years.

“Only we didn’t have sleds. Everything we had for the snow was kept at our cabin up at Lake Tahoe—”

“So we made sleds out of garbage bags, cardboard boxes, and duct tape.”

“Nice!” Felicity high-fived Thea. 

As if it had been her idea. Oliver was irrationally jealous that he hadn’t gotten a high-five. 

But the look on both girls faces still made him pretty proud. For once in his life he’d done good. “Well, we didn’t have cafeteria trays and even I wasn’t brave enough to sleigh on mom’s silver.”

“Huh?” Thea considered. “Do you think that would have worked?” And Oliver had a very interesting image of Thea flying down a hill on the best silver tray in the Dearden collection.

Felicity’s face lit up, excitement over the prospect of trash bag engineering practically radiating from her. It made Oliver want to run out and impress her with his duct tape and cardboard skills. 

“How did your creations work?” Felicity asked.

“Great. _After_ we used baby oil to slick them up,” Oliver admitted. He was pretty sure the groundskeeper was annoyed at that one, but it had worked like a charm, making them sled almost dangerously fast. 

Felicity laughed and Oliver couldn’t stop grinning, prouder now than he had been when Thea had squealed with delight all the way down the highest hill on the Queen estate.

What was better, Thea was laughing too, looking very much like the girl she had been then. That dark cloud that had been looming over her was finally dissipating. “God, how could I have forgotten? That was an awesome night…morning. I don’t think we slept at all.”

“We passed out on the couch after brunch,” Oliver reminded her. Which had been awesome too. Nothing like a mid-day nap between present opening and dinner.

“So not so different then usual,” Felicity teased.

Thea bumped her shoulder and added, “Mom was horrified that her children had sledded in garbage bags, remember?”

Oliver certainly did. She’d chewed him out about it. He’d been unrepentant at the time and now…he was even less so. He was glad they had left that elitist life behind. 

“The very next day she ordered top of the line ones to keep at the mansion so it would never happen again,” he remembered, shaking his head.

“Because we get so much snow.” Thea rolled her eyes. “We never even used those sleds.”

Then she lost that smile, leaving Oliver to struggle for a way to get it back. They’d been doing so well too. Dammit. 

“Well,” Felicity jumped in, saving him. As usual. “I don’t have access to top-of-the-line sleds but I know where we can find garbage bags and duct tape.”

Thea looked at her like she was crazy and even Oliver wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “You know where we can find some snow?”

Felicity’s answering smile was magnificent. Her eyes were brighter than the sun. She pointed to the dirty hospital window and Oliver followed her gaze until he could just make out the heavy snowflakes falling in the light of the street lamps.

Would you look at that? Huh.

Mouth falling open, Thea walked to the window, slowly, as if she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “Wow. It’s really coming down too.”

But Oliver’s eyes had found Felicity and he couldn’t take them off of her. He knew she hadn’t conjured the snow to save their holiday. But hell if it didn’t feel like it.

“First Star City Christmas Snow in eleven years?” Felicity asked playfully, swinging her legs and smiling just for him (at least it felt that way). “Maybe this is the turning point for our bad holiday luck. Only happy Christmases from now on.”

“And Hanukkahs,” Oliver reminded her and her smile spread.

“And Hanukkahs,” Felicity agreed.

For a moment, Oliver got lost. In the brightness of her eyes, the intelligence, the glow of her cheeks. 

He forgot his sister was there for a minute. When he remembered, Thea was leaning back against the window, hands braced against the windowsill, ankles crossed, a Cheshire Cat worthy grin across her face.

“So,” Oliver’s meddlesome little sister sang, “the news said you two had escaped to Oliver’s office for the night, huh?” She turned to Felicity. “When you said you weren’t spending Christmas with your detective, is that because he’s with his family or…?”

Felicity shrugged, the pink in her cheeks going a shade darker. “He’s no longer in the picture.”

Thea didn’t bother pretending to be regretful or even sympathetic. She turned her knowing smile on Oliver. “And the Dragon Lady—?”

“Was never _in the picture_ ,” Oliver told her firmly. Why did everyone think he could have possibly been serious about the woman? Thea, of all people, should know he wasn’t over Felicity.

But Thea waved off his comment like he was just making excuses. “Whatever. I’m not going to argue because that would mean spending energy on _that_ woman and no one should ever waste energy on her.”

“The-a,” Oliver grumbled. Just because he didn’t want to date her didn’t mean Susan deserved to be treated like the devil incarnate.

Thea waved him off again, not even looking at him this time. “Doesn’t matter. But now I see why _you two_ have the holiday spirit, despite everything. Your luck looks like it’s already changed.”

Oliver forced himself to scowl at8 the little troublemaker. This was not what they needed.

But he knew what they did.

“Maybe it’s time to make our own luck. Come on, you two, we have some Christmas magic to make,”Oliver told them, scooping up his coat, plans already formulating in his head. “And we need to be back in time to light the menorah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least I got this out while it was still winter, am I right? Here’s hoping many of us get snow this week to get everyone in the mood for next week’s chapter.
> 
> Next Sunday is the last ‘regular’ chapter. 17 is the E rated bonus chapter dedicated to **mariposablue9** and **Ireland1733.** 18 and 19 are the two part epilogues. I haven’t started 20 😒, but I hope/plan to write a summery Afterward chapter, explaining their Happy Ever After in some detail. For fun. Hopefully I’ll be able to write that this coming weekend and then transition to _To Sacrifice the Sun_ (which I wanted to start a month ago).
> 
> I’ve been blown away by the response to the last couple chapters and I can’t tell you how gratifying that is. I will continue respond with gifs, _Arrow_ ones as much as possible. Though I'm prioritizing these last few painful edits. Ugh.
> 
> Thanks everyone!


	16. The Snow Queen’s Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 16: The Snow Queen’s Wishes**

They weren’t home in time to light the first candle of Hanukkah.

It was well after midnight on the morning of December 25 and Felicity was standing on top of the highest hill of the old Queen Estate.

They’d stopped by the Bunker for supplies and Felicity had been fully prepared to create a make-shift sled worthy of MIT, but in the end, all they’d needed was a pair of bolt cutters to get into the old ground keepers shed where, low and behold, there were two almost new Olympic caliber toboggans. And a lot of dust.

The estate was overgrown and deserted, leaving Felicity to wonder if anyone had done anything with the Queen Estate in the two and a half years since Isabel died and Slade was taken into ARGUS custody. She didn’t remember seeing mention of it in all the time she had worked at Palmer Tech so she didn’t think it was officially the company’s.

Felicity couldn’t believe she had never tried to trace the property trail. It was such a waste.

“Wahoo!” Thea yelled as Oliver pushed her sled down the hill and it went flying. Felicity hated to admit it, but even she couldn’t put together a home-made sled that could glide like that.

John turned to his son (both of whom they’d acquired at the Bunker with the bolt cutters and the trash bags). “You sure you want to try this hill, little man? There’s a smaller one over—”

“Yes yes _yes_!!!” JJ jumped up and down in the snow, making his pants wet. He had winter boots and a long coat, hat and gloves, but no snow pants. Who had snow pants in Star City? “My turn, Unca!” The little boy demanded of Oliver. “My turn!”

Oh well, JJ might get a cold, hell they might _all_ have the sniffles for New Years, but this was already shaping up to be a historic snow fall and when would any of them get a chance to sleigh ride on _Christmas morning_ in gazzilion dollar sleds on a deserted estate ever again?

“Well, climb aboard!” Oliver grinned down at JJ, making Felicity’s heart tilt as precariously as the sled he was holding at the top of the hill. 

Felicity clapped and hooted as John and JJ went flying after Thea. 

Then Oliver turned toward her, rubbing together his gloved hands. His cheeks and nose were rosy and his smile…

Wow.

He really was too beautiful to be real.

Snow sparkled in Oliver’s beard, making him look like he was dusted with magic. The hottest Santa Claus ever.

Frak, if _that_ was what was coming down the chimney, Felicity would have converted long ago.

She was so distracted that she almost jumped when his hands closed over her arms.

“You okay?” Oliver asked with a soft, concerned smile. “You looked about a million miles away.”

“I, eh…”

She was daydreaming about climbing onto Santa’s lap. A very _well-built_ Santa’s lap.

“I was just wondering who owns this place now,” Felicity managed to say without her voice squeaking. And her blush could be explained by the cold, right? “Why isn’t it used?”

“ _Felicity_ …” Oliver held her eyes as he stepped closer, right into her personal bubble. And she swore the snow must be steaming with the heat he was admitting. “I think we now have definitive proof that the Truth Serum has worn off.”

A laugh burst from Felicity’s chest, a sound both embarrassed and guilty. She swatted at Oliver’s shoulder for calling her out so shamelessly. 

“Fine,” Felicity admitted. “I _was_ thinking about the estate. A few minutes ago. But _just then_ …” She squared her chin and her shoulders. She had nothing to be ashamed of. They were…on the verge of being back together. Hopefully for good this time. Felicity was allowed to think of Oliver in whatever manner she wanted. “I was thinking that you’d make a smoking hot Santa.”

It was Oliver’s turn to let out a shocked (and embarrassed) laugh, strong enough for his head to fall back. Which made it all worth it. Plus, his cheeks were an even brighter shade of red now and he shuffled his feet in the snow like the most adorable adolescent ever. What was it about Oliver’s shy routine that was so damn attractive? 

Finally, he dipped his head and looked at Felicity through his lashes (because he was _trying_ to make her spontaneously combust) and said, “About who owns this place now…I have no idea. I’m just glad they still have the sleds.”

Felicity just smiled back, silently promising herself that she would look into it after the holidays. See if there was a way to get the Queen’s legacy back. It was something she owed to any future children they might have.

“So…” Oliver murmured, back to staring at his shuffling feet. If he had any idea Felicity was making plans for the future generation, he’d probably be a lot more confident.

“So…”

Biting her lip, Felicity stepped closer. As much as she loved Bashful Oliver, maybe she should put the poor man out of his misery—

“Hey, love birds!” 

Thea appeared over the ridge, running toward them, smiling broadly, covered with snow, and dragging a sled behind her. Before Felicity could switch gears, the younger woman shoved the sled at her brother and threw a heavy arm around Felicity’s shoulders.

Looking very much like the mischievous adolescent Oliver had missed out on during his years away, Thea announced, “Your turn.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, but he looked too happy to be annoyed. He smiled and asked, “Felicity, you want to go next?”

“Oh no, big brother.” Thea grabbed his coat and propelled him toward the launching point. “You two are going _together_. It’s a two-person sled.”

“You just went down by yourself,” Oliver argued, sending a questioning glance over his shoulder to Felicity as he allowed his sister to manhandle him.

“That’s different,” Thea declared as she positioned the sled and came over to grab Felicity’s arm.

“How!” Oliver gaped and Felicity tried to control her laughter as she stumbled along with Thea’s insistent grip.

“Just is,” Thea announced with a one shouldered shrug and a confident smile. “Because I say so. Because it’s Christmas.”

Oliver furrowed his brow and shook his head, stuttering, “That…Thea that…just makes _no_ sense.” There was no way Felicity could control her laughter now. “You know that, right?”

Felicity half expected Thea to stomp her (not exactly snow worthy) boot, but she didn’t even blink an eye, saying, “Yes, it does. Because it’s _Christmas_.”

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Oliver blew out a breath before turning to Felicity and asking softly, “You up for indulging this one’s… _nonsense_?”

“Absolutely.” Because, really, Felicity didn’t know how she had lasted this long without Oliver’s arms around her.

Oliver’s smile was a little blinding. It could have just been the reflection off the snow, but she didn’t think so.

Thea held the toboggan still at the top of the hill, motioning for Felicity to get on, her eyes alight with mischief. 

Felicity gave her a small eye roll of her own as she climbed aboard, but it was all in good fun.

Two days ago it wouldn’t have been. 

Two days ago Thea playing matchmaker would have made Felicity physically ill.

But the bad blood was gone. The pain, the insecurities had all been washed clean. Felicity felt as pure as the damn new snow (even if the metaphor was a little too on the nose).

Now that she was sure, now that she was _absolutely certain_ that her and Oliver were inevitable, Thea’s antics were just… _fun_.

Oliver climbed into the sled after her. 

It was a tight fit. He was a big man.

It was glorious.

Both his size and the fit.

Felicity sat surrounded by Oliver. Between his arms and his legs…she swore she didn’t feel the cold at all. 

Once he was settled, Oliver leaned in and whispered in her ear, “This okay?”

Was this _okay?_

Felicity was damn close to bursting out laughing, but she managed to turn it into a happy huff and snuggled back into him. “Perfectly.”

“Three—two—one,” Thea called in a rapid sequence that defeated the purpose of counting and shoved them down the hill with all of her not insubstantial strength.

Given the caliber of the sled, the quality of the snow, their combined weight, and the angle of the hill, Felicity expected them to go fast. 

She expected a thrill.

She hadn’t expected to feel so…content.

Flying down the hill in Oliver’s arms, Felicity couldn’t remember a time she’d felt this light, this free, this… _settled_.

Felicity knew Oliver loved her and that she loved him. That they were going to be together.

For as long as they lived.

Maybe longer.

Felicity had complete confidence in this.

It wasn’t official. Words hadn’t been said. And, as Oliver said, they both needed to say them for it to be official.

But the words _would_ be said.

Before they closed their eyes tonight (preferably in each other’s arms) everything would be as it should.

The sled flew past where Thea’s trail ended, then the one made by John and JJ. It made sense, given the extra weight, but they might have gone a little too far and Oliver had to pull hard to the right to avoid a lump of snow that was probably a bush or small tree of some sort.

“Whoa!” Oliver warned as they went off track and hit a rock instead, sending them tumbling into the snow.

Before Felicity could even catch her breath, Oliver was pulling her to her feet and brushing the snow off her.

“You okay?” he fretted.

Yes, _fretted_. There was no other word for it. God, Oliver was the mother-heniest of mother-hens. 

Felicity just laughed, letting Oliver’s hands wander wherever they wanted to. “The snow kinda cushioned the fall.”

Oliver gave her an embarrassed smile and his hands stopped their nervous fluttering. They fell limply at his sides before he very deliberately shoved them into his pockets. 

Even though he had on a very sturdy pair of gloves.

That was when Felicity realized that while she was supremely confident in their future, Oliver…wasn’t.

Not yet.

Oliver cleared his throat. “That was quite a sleigh ride for a girl that grew up in Vegas.”

Oh God, the foot shuffling again and, noooo…not the looking at her through his lashes. Not again. Felicity’s heart couldn’t take it.

Laughing, Felicity’s hand found his chest, just to show him touching was okay. And to keep him from doing her in with the adorkablness. “Oliver, I may have grown up in Vegas, but I went to school in Boston.”

“Right.” Oliver was staring at the hand on his chest.

With absolute adoration.

Kill her now.

“We uh…” Felicity trudged on (it was that or jump him), “had a competition every winter. What team could create the best sled from house-hold items.”

Oliver grinned sheepishly. “Duct tape and garbage bags?”

What did he have to be sheepish about?

“Yoga mats painted with watered down Elmer’s glue,” Felicity explained, wondering why she was talking about this when there were so many more important things to talk about. ”Works every time.”

“Brilliant as always,” Oliver murmured and it had never been clearer that he wanted to kiss her.

But he wasn’t going to.

Because the next move was Felicity’s. 

And Oliver wasn’t taking that away from her. It was her choice and he respected that.

Trusted her.

How amazing was that?

Smiling, Felicity took a step closer.

“Tia, Unca O’ver and Aun’ Flis’ty gonna kiss?”

Oliver pressed his lips together and looked away, swallowing a laugh (or a groan).

Stepping back, Felicity gave Oliver’s arm a reassuring squeeze, but before she could address her inquisitive godson, Thea answered for her.

“A better question, my young Padawan,” Thea said, climbing from her own sled and helping JJ gain his footing in the ever-deepening snow, “Is why _didn’t_ Uncle Oliver and Aunt Felicity kiss? Given they had the perfect opportunity _and_ an extremely romantic setting?”

JJ tipped his head in confusion (because why would anyone want to do _that_?), while Oliver lurched forward, hissing, “ _Thea_!”

The innocent look Thea gave him was about the least believable Felicity had ever seen and all she could do was laugh. Then laugh some more at the look on Oliver’s face. What, she was having fun?

Felicity held out her hand to JJ. “How about we let the mighty Queens carry our sleds for us,” she whispered once she had caught her breath.

JJ nodded, grinning ear to ear, and took Felicity’s hand, skipping next to her as they started to trudge back up the hill.

No one argued with Felicity’s pronouncement. The Queen siblings were too busy arguing with each other and she wouldn’t be surprised if it quickly escalated to a full-blown snowball fight.

Which Felicity was happy to watch _from a distance_. 

She had no desire to be on the receiving end of projectiles from either sibling.

“Are you having fun?” Felicity leaned down to ask JJ.

“Yeah!” JJ almost went airborne in his excitement.

Chuckling, Felicity pulled on his arm to help him keep his balance. “You want to ride with me next time?”

“Oh _no_!” Before JJ could answer, Thea swept in and grabbed the little boy’s other hand. “ _You_ ,” she pointed to Felicity, “are only allowed to sled with _that one_ ,” she pointed behind her to where Oliver was lugging both sleds up the hill.

Of course, because he was Oliver, he wasn’t even winded. He quickly caught up, throwing out a, “Who made you the boss of the universe?” to his sister in a very pre-adolescent come-back.

“The _universe_ ,” was Thea’s even more brilliant reply. Then she threw Oliver a look that said, ‘obviously’ more clearly than if she said the words aloud. 

Oliver opened his mouth to argue but Thea held up her hand. 

“No. Nope. Shut it. This is not up for debate,” Thea pronounced. “Dems the rules. You _have to_ sled with Felicity.”

By this point Oliver didn’t look like he knew _what_ he wanted to do. He stared at his sister with open mouthed astonishment before finally saying, “You know it’s Christmas, not your birthday? It’s not just _your_ day?”

Undaunted, Thea faced her brother. “Three things. _One_.” She held up a finger. “You owe me multiple Christmases.”

Oliver’s mouth fell open. No sound came out. Felicity wasn’t sure the last time she’d been so entertained.

“ _Two_.” Another finger. “Why are you arguing with me? We all _know_ you want to sled with Felicity.”

Oliver’s mouth snapped closed and Felicity had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud. 

“And _three_.” Thea held up three triumphant fingers. “I dubbed this hill mine eleven years ago. _Here_ , I am the Snow Queen.”

Felicity waited with bated breath for Oliver’s response. She fully expected him to tackle his younger sister into the snow and show her how he dealt with despots…

Instead, his face melted into a smile, his eyes going soft. “I’d forgotten.”

Thea beamed and spread her arms. “You proclaimed me the Snow Queen yourself.” She twirled around in the snow, as surely she must have done all those years ago. “You can’t take it back now.”

“I didn’t know at the time that you’d would turn into a Snow Tyrant,” Oliver threw back, but the happy smile on his face took all the bite out of his words.

When they got to the top of the hill, JJ took off, running to his father, “Daddy! Tia is Queen Elsa and we all have to do what she says.”

Everyone laughed as John scooped JJ up in his arms, smiling at him with a look in his eyes Felicity hadn’t seen since before Andy.

Maybe there _was_ something magical about this snow.

“That so?” John asked, sending Thea a smirk. “What does Queen Thea…sorry, _Elsa_ say we need to do?”

Thea didn’t miss a beat before proclaiming, “First, you, John Senior are going to push Oliver and Felicity down the hill with all the power in those massive muscles of yours. My brother needs some sense knocked into him.”

“Hey!”

The laughter Felicity had barely been holding back, burst out and wouldn’t stop.

Her Royal Highness ignored her. “Then, the _Queen_ ,” She curtsied with great flair, “will reward my two Johns with a ride of their own.”

“Hurrah!” the smaller John cheered.

All the power in those massive muscles turned out to be pretty substantial and this time when Oliver and Felicity flew down the hill it was so fast Felicity didn’t have time to be content. She was far too busy laughing and screaming and clutching Oliver’s arms tight.

They sailed down the big hill, then up and down another before careening directly into a snow bank. Only Oliver’s quick reflexes kept them from getting a face full of snow. He rolled them until he hit a flat patch, landing spread eagle on the ground with Felicity on top.

Still laughing, though it hurt to smile this big, her cheeks and lips stinging with the cold, Felicity sat up, straddling him. She thought about climbing off but…why?

Felicity gazed down at Oliver, laying there in his bed of snow, chest heaving, eyes bright, cheeks red. It was another of those excellent looks on him. 

“Looks like I’ve trapped myself a snow angel,” Felicity said before she could think better of it.

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up, then after a moment of surprise his lip quirked and he rasped, “I’m no angel.”

Head tilting to the side, Felicity considered that statement. It warranted consideration. She shook her head. “I don’t think I agree.”

This time Oliver’s look was challenging as well as incredulous. It was also expressive enough to question whether Felicity had hit her head.

But she hadn’t. “You know that angels are God’s warriors, right? They fight the forces of darkness?” It was a beautiful metaphor for the man before her.

Breathing in the fresh air, Felicity smiled. The air was cool in her lungs but she grew warmer with every word exchanged, every look. She leaned down and braced her elbows on Oliver’s chest.

His eyes became fathomless and intense. He swallowed. “Well, whatever I am, you certainly have me trapped,” he murmured.

“So I do.” Felicity’s smile spread. “I think our Queen would be pleased.”

Oliver grinned. Some of the nervousness in his eyes melted away and his hands moved to tentatively land on her thighs. “Our ‘Queen’ is a tyrant.”

Felicity shrugged and took a risk, arguing, “Tyrants are selfish. They don’t act with the good of their subjects in mind.”

Eyes lighting up, Oliver’s grin deepened, his dimples flashed, but his voice lowered to a husky whisper as he said, “I guess not. I suppose we shouldn’t plan a coup then.”

“Probably not.” Felicity’s voice was so soft it was barely audible. Maybe that was her excuse as to why she bent over until their lips were almost touching.

But Felicity didn’t need an excuse.

Their lips touched.

Feather light. Just the barest contact. 

She moved. One brush. Then another. Oliver joined in.

Slow. Careful. Whisper soft.

Like the snow fall.

And like that first flake to hit one’s skin, it stung, a sharp nipping sensation that was so much greater than the sum of its parts.

Then it melted into warmth. 

And spread.

When Felicity pulled back, it was for no other reason than she wanted to look at him.

Oliver’s eyes were closed, the snow sticking to his unfairly long lashes, a dreamy expression on his handsome face. “Felicity,” he breathed as his eyes fluttered open.

It made her heart hurt. 

His eyes were filled with wonder. And fear.

Felicity’s throat closed in. Surely Oliver didn’t think she would toy with him?

Or was he just afraid to hope?

God, _that_ Felicity could relate to.

“So…” Suddenly, surrounded by snow, Felicity’s throat was as dry as the Mohave Desert. “It’s tomorrow.”

Oliver’s lips twitched. His hands clenched. Just the tiniest bit. “It might even be the day _after_ tomorrow,” he rasped.

“True. Also, the air is clear,” Felicity added, her voice almost as rough. “I could argue it’s about as clear as it gets in Star City.”

“I would agree.” Oliver’s lips seemed to be having trouble deciding whether or not he was allowed to smile.

“And you know what? No more boyfriend. I’m a free agent.” Though, Felicity really hoped that wouldn’t be true for long. Like a full minute long.

“Thank God,” Oliver breathed with so much feeling Felicity had to laugh. 

But still he wouldn’t let himself smile. If anything his muscles coiled tighter. 

Oliver cleared his throat, his eyes so hopeful. And vulnerable. “So…does that, um…mean you’ve made a decision?” His voice cracked at the end there and it might have been the least Oliver-thing she’d ever heard come from his mouth.

Her brow crinkled. Felicity didn’t like the look on his face. Or his question. It sounded like this was something that could, _or should_ , be decided with a spread sheet, complete with a plus and minus column.

Like it was her decision alone.

“This isn’t only up to me,” Felicity whispered. Because like everything else, she wanted to do this together. 

But Oliver shook his head. “You know where I stand. There was never any choice to make.”

His words, the phrasing, the memories they evoked, brought tears to Felicity’s eyes.

She thought, maybe, there had never been a choice for her to make either. 

“All I have to do is snap my fingers, huh?”

Oliver licked his lips. “That’s right.”

Slowly, carefully, Felicity pulled off a glove.

And snapped her fingers.

Oliver let out a groan that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Then his hands were in her hair and he was yanking her head to his.

He didn’t need to. Felicity met him halfway.

There was nothing soft or careful or light about _this_ kiss. 

His lips were hard and insistent. His tongue swept across her bottom lip, grazing her teeth. Perhaps hesitating to go too far too quickly, but Felicity readily opened her mouth, tilted her head, and sank into him.

Like she had wanted to do the moment she’d woken.

She sucked Oliver’s tongue deep, twining it with hers, fighting for dominance. A shock of red-hot feeling shot through her veins and coalesced between her legs, chasing away the chill from the air (and the one seeping in through her wet knees), and leaving absolutely no doubt that they had absolutely _no_ need for Sex Pollen.

This was _better_ than Sex Pollen. Because their senses were clear, their minds were free, their…

No, it wasn’t the absence of the drug that made all the difference. It was the absence of … _everything_.

Every obstacle that’d stood in their way had been washed clean. The clutter removed. Now it was just them. 

And it was amazing.

Felicity’s thighs clenched on Oliver’s hips, her knees sinking deeper into the snow as she ground down onto him, until he gasped against her lips, letting out a groan that reverberated over her nerve-endings, before redoubling the force of his kiss.

When Oliver surged up, Felicity was so distracted by the fireworks behind her eyelids that she didn’t realize he was rolling them. Not until she was on her back in the snow, sinking into it, the cold wet hitting her neck and sending a shiver through her.

But even _that_ felt fantastic, the cold on her over-heated flesh, the pleasure acute as the hard ridge in Oliver’s jeans settled into the exact right spot. And rocked.

Felicity threw back her head and moaned. “Who needs a stinking aphrodisiac?”

His chuckle reverberated across her skin as his mouth attached to her neck and dragged down its length. “I’m just glad that everything is still in working order,” he murmured between hot open-mouthed kisses to the skin at the edge of her jacket, nudging it away with his chin so he could reach more. 

Laughing breathlessly, Felicity circled her hips, making her own eyes roll back into her head as pleasure blossomed in her pelvis. One would have thought their bodies would be at least a _little_ tapped out after last night. “If it was in any better ‘working order’ I’d spontaneously combust.”

Oliver looked like he wanted to laugh but he gasped instead as Felicity rolled her hips again. 

“Maybe…” he interrupted himself with another deep kiss. As if he couldn’t help himself, diving deep with his tongue, teeth and lips and jaws open so wide they ached, in a kiss as messy as it was thorough.

He was beautifully breathless when he finally managed to say, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, after everything, but maybe we should slow down. Before we have a situation that won’t be easy to hide from my sister. Or our godson.” He demonstrated the problem by rocking down. It had both their eyelids fluttering and groans reverberating, until Oliver bodily pulled his hips from hers. “Also, I don’t think wet, sticky jeans would be a good thing in this weather.”

Damn.

Felicity could feel the snow seeping in through her jeans (thankfully she’d switched them for the yoga pants at the Bunker). Oliver was right. Unfortunately. 

She unlocked her ankles from over his ass and threw them, and her arms, wide in her own snow angel position.

“I hate when you’re right,” Felicity muttered. It really was annoying.

Chuckling, Oliver pressed a kiss to her cheek and it felt so good, so right, so…Felicity flung her arms around his neck and nipped at his chin.

Oliver hummed and he sounded so happy it made her heart hurt. He dropped one, two, three kisses on her lips before brushing her nose with his and sighing, his forehead coming to rest on hers.

Running her hand through his damp hair, Felicity realized Oliver must have lost his hat somewhere along the way. After the crash, she was pretty sure. Hers was still on her head, however precariously.

For a solid minute they just laid there, snow seeping in through their clothes, breathing each other’s air.

When Oliver broke the silence it was with a quiet, “Are you sure, Felicity? Sure you want to give me another chance?”

He sounded lost and vulnerable and Felicity kinda wanted to hit him for even _thinking_ it.

Gripping his hair, she pulled his head until she could look in his eyes. The insecurity, the fear that should have been washed away by now was still there.

“Oliver, you’re not on probation here. We…”

Felicity had no desire to _try_ anything. This was a do or not do situation. No. Ya know what? This was a _do_ situation. No other option.

She wet her lips and tried again. “So we went through a rough patch…”

Oliver huffed out a laugh.

“A _really_ rough patch,” Felicity corrected with an indignant eye-roll. “But that’s over. Oliver, I _love_ you.”

He shuddered and Felicity realized she hadn’t said that yet, not since…wow, not for months. It seemed inconceivable given…everything, but the way Oliver closed his eyes and sighed, like he was trying to breathe the words in, like they were a balm to his soul, left her no doubt and her eyes burned.

“I’ve _always_ loved you,” Felicity continued, her voice hoarser now. “I _will_ always love you. That… _this_ is for keeps.”

And the crazy part was she _believed_ it. Believed it was going to last and it might have been the first time since she was seven years old that she believed she’d get a happy ending.

“God, I love you,” Oliver croaked. “I love you so _fucking_ much. There are no words.”

“Yeah. Yes,” Felicity whimpered, desperate, pulling his lips back to hers and for some insane reason he tasted even better than he had minutes ago.

His legs were curling around her knees, urging her legs back around his hips, his tongue dancing with hers when they heard in the distance, “Hey, love birds, you going to bring that sled back at some point?”

Felicity started to shake with laughter. She tried to keep up the kiss but her lips fell away. “I guess we better head back.”

“Hell, _no_!” Oliver’s arms snuck under her back and pulled her more securely to him. “Her Royal Highness made her bed, now she can get her own damn sled.”

Then Oliver captured her lips and chased Felicity’s laughter away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve reached the end of our main story. I hope you enjoyed it. Everything’s resolved. Except for that pesky little thing where we find out who released the gas and why and they’re stopped from doing this again. But pshhh, people obsessed with a superhero show don’t care about _that_.
> 
> I’m kidding. All of that will be resolved in the Epilogues and then some, which why it turned out to be close to 16K and two parts. The next chapter is a bonus chapter and brought to you by **mariposablue9** and **Ireland1733**. I wish I could show you the series of outraged gifs I got from them (both simultaneously and independently) when I told them there was no smut after chapter 12. 
> 
> Well, now there is. They made their point and chapter 17 should more than make up for the chapters without.
> 
> All I have left for this story is one last quick edit of the epilogue, then I’m planning to go back to _To Sacrifice the Sun_. My goal is to have chapter 36 of that out a week after Epilogue Part 2 of this and to continue as long as I can. 
> 
> I haven’t written an Afterward for this yet. It feels pretty finished, so I’m going to wait and see what people think when it’s completely posted and maybe come back and write that when I need a break from TSTS.
> 
> Thank you to EVERYONE who reads and comments and kudos. I’m probably starting to repeat but I’m gonna keep going with the Olicity gifs because. I hope to respond to as many as I can tonight.
> 
> Enjoy and happy reading!


	17. No Sex Pollen Needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven’t been paying attention, there be smut ahead. Lots and lots of happy angst-free smut.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to **mariposablue9** and **Ireland1733** I hope it is everything you ever wanted. 😉

**It’s in the Air**

**Chapter 17: No Sex Pollen Needed**

_December 31, 2016_

“Do you want me to open this or not?” Felicity laughed, fumbling with the keycard.

Oliver was pressed against her back, his lips attached to that spot below her ear. His hands were…

_Everywhere_.

They skimmed over her lace trimmed bodice, teasing her already erect nipples. They glided over her ass and hips, kneading her flesh through the light but _abundant_ skirts. 

But instead of giving her room to move, to think…Oliver growled into her ear and attached his lips to the lobe, sucking it into his mouth, making her moan and let out a frustrated little whimper, “ _Ol-i-ver_ …”

They were almost inside. Just a little…

Oliver caught the keycard as it tumbled from Felicity’s fingers and inserted it into the door with annoying dexterity. Then he somehow managed to turn the handle, ruck her skirts up to her thigh, and lift her off the ground in the span of a heartbeat.

Felicity tried to suppress a squeak/shriek as her feet found air. It was a swirl of fabric and the world spun…

No, that was _her_.

Then she was inside the hotel room and her back was pressed against the door. She blinked her eyes and had the briefest chance to take in the dim room, lit only by a single lamp on a table with champagne and a vase of red roses.

Her mother had arranged this so _of course_ there were champagne and roses. Felicity just prayed that there wasn’t a heart-shaped bed down the short hallway.

It didn’t look like she’d be finding out any time soon.

Oliver had her pinned to the door and didn’t seem like he was in any hurry to move.

Not that Felicity was complaining. She was all for being pinned. As long as it was _Oliver_ doing the pinning. It was a situation she’d been in many times before and it never went badly. Not once.

Felicity was already anticipating Oliver’s big body blocking out the light. Her mouth was watering, craving his tongue against hers, strong and slightly tangy from the champagne they had already enjoyed.

But instead, Oliver pushed a fist full of skirts into her hands (also curtesy of her mother. Who else would pick something so…poofy). Felicity scrambled to grab them and watched, breathless, as he fell to his knees. 

Oliver Queen, dressed in a full tuxedo, at her feet, grinning up at Felicity with a look that was somehow simultaneously mischievous and adoring. It was…

It was everything.

Then he flicked the many layers of organza over his head and disappeared under Felicity’s skirts (leaving only a man-sized lump for her to see) and she laughed. 

Then groaned. 

Then allowed her eyes to slip closed (nothing interesting to look at anyway) as she felt his lips graze the lace at the top of her thigh-high stockings.

Oliver’s tongue traced the edge, then started a slow meandering trek upward. Felicity was just finding enough muscle -control to gather up her skirts so she could see his beautiful face, when he lifted her knee, leaving her wobbling on one mile-high heel. 

Then every drop of coordination Felicity possessed was focused on maintaining her balance against the door. “ _Oliver_ ,” she gasped, not sure if it was a warning or a plea.

He ran the flat of his tongue up her inner thigh until it met the edge of her lace thong.

Felicity didn’t think that was much of an answer, but maybe it was because Oliver draped that knee over his shoulder and she did feel a lot more stable.

Either that or she stopped caring.

Oliver would catch her. He always did.

He had a hand on her bare hip, under her gown, his fingertips sneaking up between the silky lining of the dress and her belly.

The dress was tight over her waist and bodice. Between that and the way she was currently breathing in gasps and quick little heaving breaths, Felicity was quickly becoming lightheaded.

In the best possible way. 

Felicity shuddered as Oliver pressed a kiss to the crux of her thighs, right in the center of the small piece of lace she wore as an undergarment. The kiss was slow and thorough with plenty of tongue and she was sure he could not only smell but taste her arousal through the delicate lace.

Throwing back her head, there was an audible thunk. So it was weird that Felicity didn’t feel a thing.

Not in her head anyway.

“God, _Oliverrr_ …” she moaned as he blew on her.

Her eyes were once again drifting closed when an unexpected switch in direction shocked them back open. Oliver flipped the skirts off his head and his face appeared, eyes bright, pupils blown wide, wet lips tipped up with that devilish smile Felicity knew would be the death of her.

But, _God_ , what a death it would be.

“ _Fe…li...ci...ty_ …” Oliver groaned. Then he chuckled, his tongue pressed to the top of his teeth. The sight alone had her whimpering. “Is the lace of your panty’s in the pattern of an arrow?”

She laughed, her head rolling against the door as she tried to look down at him with her malfunctioning neck muscles. “First off, it isn’t a panty. It’s a thong.”

“I stand corrected.”

“Thank you,” Felicity acknowledged with an addled grin. “Second, what if they are?”

Oliver’s smile melted into a smirk. “Well, then, that would be a shame.”

_T_ _hat_ wasn’t what she was expecting. Just when Felicity had been feeling pretty smug herself over her choice of undergarments.

Eyebrows up, Felicity asked, “Why’s that?”

“Because now I can’t tear them off you.”

The timber of his voice alone had Felicity shuddering and clenching around (unfortunately) nothing.

“Sure you can—ah….” And…her eyes again fluttered shut as Oliver lurched forward and began tracing the pattern in the lace with his tongue. 

His agile and powerful tongue.

It was _unfair_ how agile and powerful it was.

But it was all hers now.

Forever.

Blindly, Felicity’s hands groped for her skirt, gathering up fistfuls of fabric. She really wanted to see what Oliver was doing even if her eyelids weren’t cooperating.

“Mmmm…aaa…Ol….”

Neither would her vocal cords, apparently.

Oliver dragged his teeth over the apex of her mons, scraping the damp lace over her clit. Felicity yelled.

And she really hoped this hotel had soundproof walls. And doors. 

At the very least, Felicity hoped their neighbors were out on the Strip enjoying New Year’s Eve.

Because the last thing she wanted to do was hold back.

A large palm cupped her ass and it shifted so he could run a pinky along her crack. It found the string of Felicity’s thong and traced it back to the top until her hips were rocking against Oliver’s tongue and her head lolling against the door.

When he reached the T of the thong, Oliver looped the string around his finger and pulled. 

It went taught, producing a band of pure sensation from Felicity’s clit to her anus.

Then Oliver started to suck on the folds of flesh bulging from either side of the satin and lace, lapping up the steady stream of wetness.

“Oliver, Oliver, Oliver…”

Felicity was at her coherent best.

“Yes, my love?” Oliver chuckled, rubbing his nose back and forth over her clit.

The bastard. 

“Jus…just do it…” 

Felicity tried to make it a command. At the very least, a demand. 

She was pretty sure she only managed a plea.

“Do what?” the asshole teased, leaning in to nip at her clit and coming away with fabric instead. 

She prayed he would rip it free. She could buy more arrow patterned thongs. Hell, she had three more in her suitcase.

But Oliver just pulled the elasticky lace tight, then let it go, so it snapped back, making Felicity yelp at the stinging pleasure. 

“Rip them!” This time Felicity managed that demand. “Rip them off!” She pressed her hips into his lips, desperate and not caring if he knew it. She should really explain about the spares, but her brain was malfunctioning again.

“Nope,” Oliver pronounced between (distracting) licks. “I want you to wear these again and again and again…”

But she had _more_ …

Why didn’t Felicity’s brain vomit the words she _wanted_ to say?

Two fingers of the hand not holding the string of her thong hostage, traced the tight fit on the fabric between her folds, before nudging it to the side and plunging deep.

_Fuck_.

His fingers started to move and Felicity started to babble, “Please…please….Oliver, _please_!” 

“What, baby? Tell me what you want?”

“What I want?” 

Hundreds of answers came to mind, flashes of a thousand things Felicity wanted Oliver to do to her, that she wanted to do with him. The least of all was the removal of those damn panties.

What Felicity’s mouth, completely unattached from her brain, said was, “Come. I want to _come_ , Oliver!”

His grin was blinding. “All you had to do was ask.”

Oliver assaulted her senses. A third finger joined the first two in a punishing rhythm. The other hand pulled the thong even tighter and his mouth…

His lips formed a tight seal over her clit. Lace and all. 

And started to suckle.

A full-frontal assault with the extra sensation of rough lace and smooth satin, even the lack of oxygen from the too tight bodice added to her pleasure. Felicity was flying off that pinnacle in what seemed like seconds.

Or forever.

One of the two.

Lights burst behind her eyelids and pleasure bloomed.

When her muscles sagged and her voice stopped crying out, Oliver caught her. By the time Felicity managed to pry her eye-lids open, he was standing in front of her, smoothing her skirts down and smiling in a very self-satisfied way.

He saved his smug self by breathing, “God, you are the _most beautiful_ thing I have ever seen, Mrs. Queen.”

Felicity sighed, letting the words flow over her, fill her up until she was about to burst with joy.

Cupping his cheek and running her thumb over his full lower lip, Felicity murmured, “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Queen.”

He hummed and it was one of the happiest sounds Felicity had ever heard. His lips captured hers and for a moment she let herself get lost in the taste of herself, champagne, and Oliver, _her husband_.

When he pulled back, Felicity sighed blissfully, and Oliver stepped backward, gathering both her hands and pulling her into the hotel room.

“Someone is very eager,” she teased. 

Because she could now. Felicity’s… _eagerness_ had the edge taken off and the decision to do so had very much been Oliver’s.

And he didn’t seem the least bit repentant. 

Oliver’s eyes sparkled with a boyish light Felicity would never get tired of. “You’re not trying to tell me that there is somewhere else you would rather be on New Year’s Eve in Las Vegas, than holed up in a hotel room with your new husband, are you?”

Felicity turned her chuckle into a scoff. “Are _you_ trying to distract me from my guilt over abandoning John and Thea to my mother?”

“ _Please_. Your mother is showing them the time of their lives.” Oliver actually looked like he believed it. “A dose of Donna Smoak is _exactly_ what those two need to bring last year to an _end_.” 

Oliver had made it clear what he thought of 2016. He was ready to consign the entire thing to the depths of hell.

With the exception of the last week, of course.

Felicity suppressed a smile. She was not ready to give in. “I’m pretty sure they all expected us to stay with them until midnight at the very least.” 

Even if Felicity was _thrilled_ to be away from Vegas nightlife on tonight of all nights. The city she grew up in had the duel advantage of a quick marriage license and her mother (and all the favors Donna had accrued over the years), but that didn’t mean she had any desire to bask in the lights.

“Pft,” Oliver scoffed, making Felicity laugh at how ridiculous the sound was coming from his lips. “We stayed with them for almost _three_ hours after the ceremony. There’s only so much a man can take.”

Felicity considered pointing out how many hours the average man ‘had to take’ between the wedding ceremony and the wedding night, but she really didn’t think that was going to get her anywhere.

Oliver kissed one hand and then the other, before dropping them to find the room lights. “Besides how much fun are they really going to have with us mooning all over each other all night?”

With a mock gasp (complete with a hand to her chest), Felicity protested, “I do _not_ moon.”

She totally mooned. And they both knew it.

But Oliver didn’t miss a beat. “I moon enough for both of us.”

And that’s how he made her melt into a puddle on the floor.

Who wouldn’t moon? Seriously? Her husband was fraking perfect.

Oliver found the light switch and the huge satin covered bed was illuminated in a warm glow. “Very nice,” he hummed as he looked around.

The room _was_ nice. Bigger than Felicity had expected. Technically a suite though nowhere near the size of the huge opulent ones Vegas was so famous for. Just the one large room with a sitting area overlooking the resort, a small breakfast nook, and the bed. The very large four-poster bed.

That part was very _very_ nice.

Still, it probably wasn’t anything near what the old Oliver was used to. But this Oliver, _her_ Oliver was running is fingers over the satin comforter in appreciation.

“I’m just happy the bed isn’t shaped like a heart and covered with red velvet,” Felicity joked as she walked around the suite.

“Those rooms probably sold out months ago.”

Felicity laughed and, because Oliver had been out of her arms for too long, turned to him and held out her hand.

In truth, her mother had probably exhausted every favor she had coming for their impromptu New Years Eve wedding. A slot at a (mostly) classy wedding chapel. A rabbi not dressed as Elvis. A dress Felicity wouldn’t have initially chosen for herself, but turned out to be gorgeous for a winter wedding with its layers of frothy organza and tasteful lace edging reminiscent of snowflakes.

And this, a honeymoon suite at the Four Seasons.

Yes, Felicity definitely owed her mom. Not the least of which was for not complaining when Oliver whisked her off to their room shortly after 10pm.

Oliver took Felicity’s hand and reeled her into his arms, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. “Let me show you my favorite part.”

He spun her until she faced a desk, one that clearly doubled as a vanity given the enormous mirror behind it.

Despite both of their fondness for a certain mahogany monstrosity, she really didn’t think Oliver was excited about the desk part.

Felicity couldn’t help but laugh, teasing, “ _This_ is your favorite part? You know there’s a very comfortable looking _bed_ right over there.”

“Yes, but this allows me to more fully appreciate my beautiful bride,” Oliver drawled, running a hand up her arm and across her chest, above the lace, slow and sensual, sending shivers up her spine.

Then Felicity looked at herself in the mirror.

Oh dear God.

“Your ‘beautiful bride’ is a mess.” Her once intricate updo was sticking out all over the place, half up and half down (but not in the correct places) due to their encounter against the door, and her lipstick was gone except for a single smear across her cheek.

Felicity licked her thumb and tried to rub the lipstick away as Oliver chuckled, pulling the pins from her hair and massaging her scalp until the blond curls fell around her face and shoulders. 

“My bride is perfect.” Oliver punctuated the statement with a firm kiss to her temple. “The room is perfect.” He nipped at her chin. “And Donna is the perfect mother-in-law.”

Scoffing (to bury her laugh), Felicity pulled Oliver’s arms around her middle and leaned into him. “If this was my mother’s doing, the mirror would be on the ceiling.

Then, as if they had choreographed it, they both leaned back and looked upward. Where sure enough…

Oliver let out a bark of a laugh. “Like I said. Perfect.”

Felicity was about to disagree. To say it was cheesy or tawdry (even though the mirror had a beautiful, tasteful frame).

But then she locked eyes with herself in the mirror over head and watched as Oliver brushed her hair to the side and placed soft, lingering kisses behind her ear. Watched his hand lift her arm to drape over his neck, watched his manicured fingertips run the length of her arm, skim over her collar bone and down the slopes of her breasts…

Felicity struggled to keep her eyes open as those fingers dipped under the snowflake lace and traced her areola as it stiffened and puckered. Oliver flicked her nipple…

Felicity moaned. “Keep this up and I’m going to be a pile of ash long before midnight.”

Oliver’s laugh rumbled over her senses. She felt more than heard it as he sucked her earlobe into his mouth. His tongue traced each of her piercings before he said, “Oh no. We’ve barely gotten started.”

And if that didn’t send a bolt of white-hot anticipation through her blood stream, Felicity didn’t know what would.

And _then_ Oliver’s hand flattened over her pelvis, pulling her so snuggly against his body that she could feel his hard length through his expensive and well-tailored slacks and fifty layers of organza.

“Tonight is the night we put all other nights to shame,” Oliver murmured.

Which was a pretty high bar considering…

Eyes that had almost fallen shut popped open and Felicity turned in Oliver’s arms.

It must have startled Oliver because he loosened his grip and tilted his head to the side with a quizzical look.

Swallowing, Felicity found herself playing with his bowtie as she considered her next words carefully. It wasn’t until the tie came undone that she murmured, “Oliver… you aren’t trying to outdo a certain night of super-human, drug-induced, sexual excess, are you?”

The way Oliver’s eyes shifted and his mouth turned downward told Felicity all she needed to know.

“ _O-li-ver_ …”

“ _Fe-li-ci-ty…”_ he countered, adding the all-powerful puppy-dog eyes in a completely unfair counterattack. “Don’t you want to remember tonight, our _wedding night_ , as the best night of our lives and not the night some psycho—?”

Oh no, they weren’t going there. “Sweetheart, it’s _already_ the best night of my life.”

That softened him, as she had known it would. And it was completely _absolutely_ true. Even without the hot-as-hell appetizer against the door.

“The best night of our _sexual_ life,” Oliver clarified, quieter now.

And Felicity wasn’t sure how to counter that. She wanted to argue…she _was going to_ argue. She just didn’t know where to start. 

“Oliver, is that what,” Felicity gestured toward the door (the one the sight of which even now caused a flash of arousal) with a wave of her hand, “ _all_ _that_ was about?”

His eyebrows flew up. “Was there a problem with _all that_?” 

He knew there wasn’t but still Felicity answered, “No! Nooo!” making Oliver’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “I’m all for _that_. And more. We can have _that_ all night long if you want. Tomorrow too.”

By this point Oliver’s chest was shaking with suppressed laughter. “So what are we arguing about?”

“We’re not arguing…” Felicity protested, undoing the top buttons of his shirt. It just couldn’t be comfortable. “Okay, maybe I was arguing a little. But just the teensy tiniest bit.” She traced the whorl of Oliver’s ear. “It’s just that there were records broken that night. Records that are not _humanly possible_ to break without the help of chemical enhancement, so unless you’ve taken Viagra…you haven’t taken Viagra, have you?”

“ _No_!”

Oliver looked insulted and Felicity hadn’t _really_ thought he would do something so foolish. But the man could do some pretty foolish things when he had a goal in mind. One track bulldozer was what he was.

But it was their wedding night so Felicity decided not to point that out. “Then I’d rather not set up tonight if all nights for failure, by aiming for the impossible.”

“Impossible?” Oliver’s brows were now at his hairline and…

_Frak_ , she’d gone and challenged him and now the damn man would be tenacious as all hell. Fraking bullheaded Taurus’. 

“Especially,” she rushed to add, “since tonight is _already_ better. There is no guilt. No pain. No facing our deepest demons…they’ve all been fought and conquered.” Felicity knew her grin was wheedling but it got a smile out of Oliver so it must’ve been working. “There are no miscommunications or bitterness between us, no _other_ people.”

Oliver pulled her closer and leaned his forehead against hers. Felicity went in for the kill, “There are no worries about other people being harmed, no worries about dying from an unknown gas. There’s no drug to cloud our senses. Just you and me and desire and so much love and you know what else?”

Eyes crinkling, Oliver rasped, “What?”

Felicity leaned back, just enough to hold up her hand and wiggle her fingers so the giant-ass Dearden diamond, next to her brand-new diamond encrusted wedding band, caught the light and sent rainbows dancing over their faces and around the room. “We are no longer sinning!”

Oliver laughed so loud his entire body shook.

She grinned proudly. “I’m pretty sure my childhood rabbi implied that alone would make it so much bet—”

Oliver’s arms banded around her, under her ass, and he lifted her off the floor so suddenly that Felicity squealed and threw her arms around the closest body part, which just happened to be his head.

The movement resulted in smooshing his face into Felicity’s cleavage. Which Oliver seemed to like just fine, if the sounds he made were any indication. 

Then Felicity was being pushed onto the desk/vanity. Oliver’s hands were under her skirts, spreading her legs wide to allow him to pressed full-length against her and there were a hell of a lot fewer layers between her damp lace arrow thong and the hard ridge of his cock.

Felicity had only a microsecond to take it in before Oliver’s mouth captured hers, opening it wide with his insistent lips, sweeping his tongue inside and…

Her brain stopped working. Felicity became lost in his kiss. Only with Oliver was a kiss so all consuming, so fulfilling that it quieted her busy brain and focused it entirely on _this_.

After God only knew how many teeth-clanking, mind-melting, soul-merging kisses, Felicity barely knew her own name, never mind what they had been talking about.

Oliver pulled back with a groan, “ _Felicity_ …” and a slow toe-curling grind of his hips. “If you think that’s going to keep me from trying to eclipse _that_ night, you are sadly mistaken.”

Felicity whimpered. She had to say, she actually was starting to believe it was possible. Still…

“As long as we agree that we are going for _quality_ and not quantity, then I’m all for it. Sooo for it.”

Deep, rich laughter filled the room. “I think I can agree to that.”

“Good. Goooood…so _good_ … Felicity gasped as his hands massaged her hips, leading them in a rhythm they both craved (between the clothing neither of them wanted). “Because I really don’t want to spend my wedding night in the ER. Especially a _Vegas_ ER.”

Oliver laughed again and leaned in to kiss her.

But Felicity stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Speaking of avoiding the Emergency Room, I think I might need to get out of this dress. Another one of those kisses and I just might pass out from lack of oxygen.”

_That_ Oliver did not find amusing. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He had her off the desk and spun around before Felicity could blink. “I might regret having admitted how much I enjoy your manhandling,” she joked, breathlessly.

Oliver smirked at her in the mirror, “Too late,” and went back to examining what Felicity knew was a long row of tiny buttons along the back of her dress.

“Feel free to rip it.”

“Your _wedding dress_?” Oliver scoffed.

It was a rhetorical question. One he’d already answered.

Felicity should have known. Oliver refused to rip her thong. He wasn’t going to rip her wedding dress.

Oliver was sentimental like that.

She didn’t waste her breath arguing. Oliver’s nimble fingers made short work of the tiny buttons anyway. 

As soon as she was able, Felicity sucked in a deep breath, relishing the easy flow of air. Now she knew exactly why Elizabeth Swann had passed out over the balustrade.

It took her a second to realize Oliver had stopped, his hands resting lightly on her waist. 

Their eyes met in the mirror. “What’s wrong?”

Oliver shook his head slowly, a soft smile playing on his lips, “You’re just…so _fucking_ gorgeous. I’m not sure I’m ready to take this off you yet.” His hands reverently smoothed over the lace and organza.

He gave her a sheepish grin and Felicity made a mental note to thank her mother. Again. Maybe send her flowers.

Then Felicity took in Oliver’s worshipful look in the mirror and inspiration struck. Born both of the desire to keep that look in her new husband’s eyes and to give him anything that would give him the slightest happiness.

_And_ the long-standing fantasy of having Oliver Queen fuck her while wearing a tuxedo.

Felicity took a deep breath to make sure the air was moving freely before saying, soft and raspy, in a voice she was damn proud of, “Who says you have to?”

She leaned forward until her elbows rested on the desk. Her bodice gaped, showing just a peak at her taunt breasts behind the snowflake lace.

Excitement lit Oliver’s eyes. “Are you serious?” 

He sounded so much like a little boy on Christmas that Felicity laughed. “We have a long night in front of us. No need to unwrap our presents all at once.”

Felicity met Oliver’s eyes and saw them flash with arousal. Then her sight was blocked out as a pile of organza was flipped over her head.

Laughing, Felicity brushed it out of her eyes. “Really, Oliver?”

But by then, he was out of sight. On his knees, judging from the hot breath against her thighs.

“Honey, I really don’t think any additional preparation is needed,” Felicity told him, because really how much more could she take before he was inside her?

Oliver pressed a kiss to the globe of her ass and hummed. Felicity had no idea what that meant, but it felt great. Then he was easing off her thong with an agonizing slowness, leaving lingering kisses in its wake.

Most of her weight was on the desk but damn if her legs weren’t trembling in those four-inch heels. Oliver must have wanted them to stay on because when he eased the thong off one foot, he was careful to keep the shoe in place and he let the scrap of lace pool around the other.

Then he ran both hands up the length of her legs, callouses catching on her stockings until they found lace then flesh. His thumbs grazed her folds, but he kept moving until both hands cupped her ass and he stopped to knead the abundant flesh.

Felicity whimpered when two large fingers abruptly entered her, she gasped and her forehead fell to rest on her clasped hands, while she dragged in heavy breaths, glad to be free of restrictions.

It allowed her to find the breath to mutter, “as much as I love your hands, they’re not exactly what I’m looking to have inside me right now.”

A husky chuckle floated over her as Oliver moved his fingers. In and out, dragging the calloused pads over the spongy flesh in the front of her channel…once, twice, and a third time with a pass of his thumb over her clit, making her keen and whine, completely unable to complain that he wasn’t listening to her.

Then, with one last kiss to the top of her ass, Oliver withdrew.

Felicity peaked out from the curtain of her blond curls and watched Oliver, still in his full tux, only his tie hanging open, suck his fingers into his mouth, and she let out a moan as she felt another gush between her legs.

God, she wanted to remember that image for the rest of her life.

A soft ripping sound and another peak confirmed that Oliver was rolling on a condom and her cunt clenched in anticipation.

Felicity kind of hated using condoms with Oliver. It felt wrong somehow. But not using them was the same as flat out _trying_ to have a baby and that would be even more impetuous than getting married seven days after getting back together.

There hadn’t even been time for Felicity to schedule a GYN appointment to get back on birth control. So condoms it was. For now anyway.

Felicity had confessed the birth control situation to Oliver at the Loft on Christmas morning as the steam from the shower filled the master bath and they peeled off their half-frozen clothing. 

Oliver knew all the woman had been given Plan B at the hospital. 

He hadn’t asked her if she took it. 

Felicity hadn’t volunteered that she hadn’t.

They had used condoms ever since. 

The only conversation had been her casual mention that she needed to schedule that appointment and Oliver telling her he was fine either way.

Felicity tried not to think too much about…any of it. Too many emotions one way or another. Whatever happened they’d deal with it.

Together.

“ _Felicity_.”

It was a command and she lifted her head. Oliver brushed her hair out of her face and caught her eyes.

“Watch.”

_That_ was a command too.

It washed any unwelcome thoughts away. Felicity met Oliver’s eyes in the mirror and he held them as he found her entrance, hot and hard and…

“ _Ahhhh_ …..”

Felicity really did hope this hotel had sound-proofed their walls. It _was_ the honeymoon suite after all.

Oliver slid home with an agonizing slow thoroughness that made it damn hard for her to keep her eyes open.

But Oliver caught her intention before they could flutter closed. “ _Fe-li-ci-ty_ ….stay with me, baby.” His raspy command was impossible to ignore.

“Not mmmm…goin’ anywhere,” Felicity assured, pushing back into him and feeling the soft fabric of his dress pants come flush against her bare ass.

It was incredibly erotic.

Oliver bottomed out with a soft groan.

“ _God_ …” He circled his hips, as if testing the waters. Not withdrawing, just…

“Yes…. _oh yes_.” 

Eyes darkening, Oliver repeated the move. With more purpose.

Felicity lost the battle with her eyelids. She couldn’t keep balanced on her elbows either. She slumped over and…

Oliver’s hand carded through her hair, then he wrapped it around his palm. Felicity was sure he was going to pull her head back so she would continue to watch.

Which was totally okay. Oliver had a way of pulling Felicity’s hair that always felt sexy and powerful, without being truly painful. It never felt overpowering or scary.

But that could just be because she trusted him so much.

Instead of demanding she watch (which Felicity really did want to do), Oliver draped himself over her, tilted her head to the side, and captured her in an intense (and sloppy as hell) kiss.

He sucked on her tongue and she groaned.

Felicity wanted to keep kissing him. She wanted it so _damn_ much. But she couldn’t. Especially not with the increased power of Oliver’s hips circling and drilling into her and…

One large masculine hand cupped her jaw, murmuring, “God, I love you. So fucking much.”

Felicity moaned and tried to find words. All she managed was, “ _Oliver.._.”

His other hand slipped inside her sagging bodice and cupped her breast, catching her nipple between two fingers. Felicity cried out, just barely keeping herself from screaming down the hotel as an electric shock of pleasure shot from her nipple to her clit.

Rearing up, Felicity put all of her strength into pushing back her hips. Hard.

“ _Christ_ , you’re beautiful.”

Felicity opened her eyes to a perfect view of Oliver worshipping her bare breasts, her wedding dress pooling at her elbows and waist. Her skin was rosy and he…

Oliver’s platinum wedding band stood out, stark against his finger and her flushed skin. His hair was perfectly tousled and his forehead gleamed with sweat. And his eyes… _God_ , the look in his eyes.

“I love you,” Felicity gasped. “God, I love _you_ , Oliver.”

His eyes fell closed at her words. His neck arched. Felicity couldn’t take her gaze off the powerful line of his throat. And then…

He snapped.

Oliver surged forward and he started to thrust without restraint.

Frak, Felicity _loved_ when he did that. 

But she also knew it was usually followed by some guilt on his part for losing control so she forced herself to speak, even though the rapid, powerful thrusts were turning her nerve-endings into globs of liquid pleasure, incapable of doing much more than _taking_.

Before it was too late…

“Yes! Just like that, baby. Just like…. _ahhhh_ …”

Yeah, that was the end of her coherence.

“Fel… _Felicity_ ,” Oliver sobbed and Felicity pressed one hand to the mirror, pushing back into him with all her might.

He snuck the hand not assaulting her breast under the miles and miles of organza and cupped his hand over her mons. Felicity clutched the hand on her breast and held it to her and Oliver increased the pressure to her nipple and she _sobbed_.

Forcing herself to focus on the picture the mirror captured, the fraking beautiful picture, Felicity caught sight of their rings. 

Next to each other. Gleaming and sending fractured light dancing around them.

“Oliver… _look_!”

Felicity was damn proud she’d managed to say something that coherent and when Oliver’s eyes followed hers, she knew when he saw the rings because he let out a whimpering sob.

But he didn’t seem to be able to look for long. Oliver’s eyes fell closed and his forehead fell to her shoulder.

His hand tightened on her clit and her breast and he thrust hard.

And came.

Taking Felicity with him.

Happy New Years to her!

To both of them, really.

Oliver collapsed on top of her. It wasn’t his full weight, Felicity knew. Not even close, but he still asked, “You okay?”

The man was exasperating.

And so _so_ wonderful.

“Mmmm. Yup. So okay. Better than okay.” Felicity tried to stretch and realized how hot and sweaty she was. That didn’t mix well with organza and lace. “Though I think I’m _definitely_ ready to take this dress off now.”

Oliver chuckled and drew in a deep breath, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, I think I’m done with the tux too.”

Felicity could tell by the way his shirt stuck to his chest that he must be sweltering in that get-up. Plus the fact that Oliver shrugged off his jacket before finishing her buttons (he almost always put her comfort before his own).

It was still less than a minute before Felicity’s dress was pooling at her feet and Oliver was disposing of the condom. She sighed with relief as the cool air hit her overheated skin and she kicked off her heels.

A low groan brought Felicity’s eyes to Oliver. His bowtie hung limply from his fingers, his shirt half-buttoned, as his eyes devoured her.

As if he hadn’t had her five seconds before and every day of the last week.

His pants were open. The only thing keeping them up were those damn suspenders. And peaking out…

Felicity swallowed something that was suspiciously close to a giggle. “I don’t think we’re gonna need Viagra.”

Oliver grinned. “Told ya so.”

She had been fully prepared, had looked forward to actually, sucking Oliver back to full hardness and from what she was seeing, Felicity had better act fast. 

Grabbing him by the suspenders, Felicity yanked Oliver forward, then around before pushing him against the bed. He chuckled under his breath, allowing her her own mock-manhandling.

Slipping to her knees, Felicity wasted no time taking his half-hard cock into her mouth and sucking it deep. Oliver’s laughter turned into a groan, long and deep, as he fell back on his hands. 

Felicity loved starting round two like this (or more accurately round three). Loved how Oliver started out soft and spongy, mailable, how she could fit his entire cock in her mouth, then he grew with every suck until he was stretching her lips and hitting the back of her throat. 

But he was already two-thirds the way there by the time Felicity’s tongue curled around his cock lapping up his saltiness and her sweetness. Two long draws and he filled her mouth, which both had her craving him back inside her and promising herself she’d be doing this again later in the evening when she could savor it longer. 

Maybe they’d get quantity as well as quality after all. 

Felicity dragged her lips up to the head of his cock and suckled the tip, before testing the hardness with her tongue. 

Yup, already hard enough to pound nails. 

Damn this man’s stamina. 

The thought sent a white-hot bolt of arousal through her and a craving…God, the _craving_ …

Taking a deep breath through her nose, Felicity relaxed and sank onto him, until Oliver’s cock hit the back of her throat. Then she did it again, tilting her head back, and he went deeper, cutting off her airway and leaving a trickle of salt along her esophagus, until her nose buried itself in his pelvis and she breathed in his strong musky scent. 

“ _Christ_!” Oliver growled, the abdominal muscles framed by his white shirt rippling. “ _Felici_ —”

She swallowed.

Oliver’s hips bucked up. Luckily, Felicity was ready for it and moved with him (this wasn’t her first rodeo). 

Chuckling, Felicity lazily dragged her lips back up his cock, watching Oliver’s chest heave, a bead of perspiration snaking between his pecs, as he gasped and fought for self-control. 

Taking pity on him, Felicity’s tongue circled the tip of his cock one last time, then she sat back on her feet and smiled up at him.

Licking his lips, Oliver shook his head, like he couldn’t believe her, and drew in a breath. He looked like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. 

It was a feeling Felicity was well acquainted with. 

Kneading the muscles of his thighs, Felicity blew the hair out of her face and smiled up at him. “Do you want me to finish or—”

“Nope. Uh uh,” Oliver said oh-so-eloquently, shaking his head and reaching for her.

Felicity laughed. “Didn’t think so,” she teased as she allowed her new husband to pull her to her feet. 

As she stood, Felicity’s eyes caught the clock on the bedside table. 

11:49.

“Is that right?” Felicity turned, her eyes searching for… “Where’s my phone?”

“What? You…you dropped your bag by the door, but… _Fe-li-ci-ty_ …” Oliver whined, trying to hold her back. 

But Felicity wiggled free (all the sweat made her slippery) and scampered, wearing nothing but lacy thigh-highs, to the door where her clutch lie, forgotten on the ground. 

Oliver let out a groan. Judging by its muffled nature, Felicity would guess he was rubbing his hand down his face in frustration. And brain-addled lust.

But this couldn’t wait. 

Felicity found her phone and… “11:50. Ten minutes until midnight.”

“Is that what you’re about?” Oliver muttered. He didn’t sound happy. Poor baby.

Grinning, Felicity made her way back to her husband, her fingers already finding the app she’d had the foresight to download earlier that day.

Oliver was sprawled on the bed, his legs dangling over, his cock standing straight up as he stared at himself in the mirror with a long-suffering expression. 

Felicity rolled her eyes. 

“We can _not_ miss our first New Year’s countdown as a married couple,” she chided, tossing the phone, count-down app bright, on the bed next to him. 

Immediately, Oliver’s face softened and he sent her a lopsided smile. “I was planning on kissing you the entire time, so we had the most important tradition covered either way.”

Felicity rolled her eyes again, this time reaching for Oliver’s foot and disposing of his shoes and socks in quick succession. Then she grabbed his suspenders and yanked him back into a seated position.

“We have all the time in the world to have sex.” Felicity glanced at the phone. “You can wait eight and a half minutes so we can ring in the New Year properly.”

Oliver’s eyes lit up. “I’ll give you _properly_...” He reached around and grabbed her ass with both hands. 

That earned him his third eye-roll, but the phrase was so un-Oliver that Felicity could only laugh as she flicked the suspenders off his shoulders, then pushed his shirt off as well. “First things first. We have to be naked by midnight.”

Oliver grinned and stood, sending his pants and boxer briefs puddling on the floor. “I can work with that.”

Felicity let out a shriek as Oliver grabbed her around the waist and tossed her onto the bed. By the time she had caught her breath and locked eyes with herself in the ceiling mirror, he was slowly pealing her stockings from her legs, leaving feather-light kisses in his wake.

And watching the rippling muscles of Oliver’s back in the mirror, the divine sight of his ass and his strong legs…Felicity really did see the appeal of a mirror on the ceiling. Enough that she seriously considered getting one for the Loft.

“ _Five minutes until midnight,_ ” Felicity’s phone chirped.

And Oliver froze, jerking his head up. “Seriously?”

Breathless, Felicity laughed and nudged him with her now bare toe. “Better hurry. Only five minutes left.”

It was Oliver’s turn to roll his eyes as he pulled the second thigh-high free and tossed it over his shoulder. “I’m not sure I like being rushed.” He punctuated this by lifting her foot and pressing his thumb into her arch in a massage that had Felicity’s eyes rolling back. “Especially by a cell phone. On my wedding night.”

“Would you rather we put on Ryan Seacrest?” Felicity asked, using her other foot to trace a line down his chest and abs.

“No, thank you.” Oliver let her foot drop and crawled on top of her. “So now what, wife? Are we just going to stare into each other’s eyes until midnight…not that I mind…or does your brilliant mind have something else planned?”

Felicity’s eyes lit up and she beamed at him, asking, “Condom?”

Which was annoyingly unsexy, but it was better to get that part over with. 

Though, judging by the gleam in Oliver’s eyes as he rolled over to fetch one, he found it plenty sexy.

When he turned back to her, Oliver had the foil package clutched triumphantly in his hand and Felicity snatched it from him. “Just lie back and relax.” 

She tried for a wink, but judging from the twitching at the corners of Oliver’s mouth, she was about as successful as she usually was at it. But he did as he was asked and sprawled out on his back.

There were still almost three minutes left so Felicity placed the condom next to the phone and started to trace his eight pack with her tongue.

Oliver let out a groan that was punctuated by a little laugh. “What about—?”

“Hush. Just relax and watch the show,” Felicity commanded. Then she enjoyed the final minutes of the year mapping out the varied landmarks of her husband’s body with her mouth and tongue and teeth.

When her phone gave the thirty second warning, Felicity sat up and threw her leg over the quivering mass of man that belonged to her. She licked her lips and picked up the condom, holding it up between them. “Ten…” Felicity said with her phone, ripping open the packaging.

“Nine…”

She slipped the condom out and tossed the packaging aside. 

“Eight…”

She pinched the end.

“Seven…Six…”

Felicity rolled the condom down Oliver’s full length, eliciting an even deeper moan than she had already been earning.

“Five…Four…”

Her hand slowly traced its way back up.

“Three...”

Felicity lifted herself up and scooted forward.

“Two…”

She lined him up and…

“ _One_.”

Felicity sank down and they both groaned.

“Happy New Year, husband,” she leaned forward and gave him a proper New Year’s kiss as her phone erupted in virtual fireworks.

“Happy New Year,” he parroted with a choked laugh. “Now come _here_.” 

Oliver curled his hand over Felicity’s crown and pulled her back into a kiss incredibly inappropriate for any party consisting of more than two.

Which was why private New Years celebrations were the best.

When Oliver finally fell back onto the pillow, sucking in a deep breath, Felicity hummed in satisfaction. “I have a good feeling about 2017. I’m pretty sure it’s going to kick 2016’s ass.”

Letting out a breathless laugh, Oliver bucked up into her, making her eyes roll back into her head. “As long as we’re together. That’s all I ask.”

Felicity grinned. Her wonderful sappy husband. “Well, Mr. Queen, if that’s all you need, I think I can guarantee you a very happy New Year.”

“You know what, Mrs. Queen…?” Oliver crooked his finger at her and, smiling, Felicity sank back into her husband’s kiss.

Yes, 2017 was going to be a very _very_ good year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably the hardest chapter to write in this entire story. Smut is always difficult, but there’s something about happy-smut, it’s a struggle to make sure its interesting and meaningful and important to the story.
> 
> I’m not sure how important this chapter is, but I’m happy with it. I tried to throw in a little character development, lol.
> 
> Next week we get the first part of the epilogue and I’m pretty damn excited. There’s a lot packed into it and I can’t wait.
> 
> Don’t forget to thank **mariposablue9** and **Ireland1733** for this treat. And tell me what you think, cause I’m greedy like that 😉 and I love every word. I think I’ll respond with hot Olicity gifs for this one and we’ll see how many different 3x20 and 5x20 gifs I can find. For, you know, science.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Ps. I know I said I’d be working on _To Sacrifice the Sun_ after I finished this (and I finished this), BUT I was doing a rewatch of season 2 (because apparently I’d rather watch Season 2 for the 80th time than season 7 & 8 for the first) and got major _Another Kind of Island_ feels.
> 
> So I have spent the last week rereading (and editing) AKOI. I just finished chapter ten and I’m going to put up the cleaned up chapters and art tomorrow. I can never guarantee where my muse will go but since I’ve put a lot of effort into these revisions I hope it will be several months. 
> 
> I do have two AKOI chapter’s written so I _will_ promise those will be posted after _It’s in the Air_ is over (March 22 and 29).


	18. Epilogue, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

**It’s in the Air**

**Epilogue, Part 1**

_March 31, 2017_

2017 was _not_ kicking 2016’s ass. 

Not even close.

Oliver was in a hospital. Again. But not in the hospital bed. 

He would have preferred that.

Far, _far_ preferred that to this particular brand of hell.

To standing here helpless next to his unconscious wife, too restless to even sit, while his son was in a room on the other side of the ER. Because lucky them, even though they were in the middle of No-Where Iowa, this hospital had a Pediatric ER.

Which meant an adult and child couldn’t stay anywhere near each other and Oliver had to somehow split his time between William and Felicity. 

When neither of them should be alone. 

For a single solitary minute.

Every time Oliver went to check on William, his twelve-year-old just demanded, “How’s Felicity?” “Is she awake yet?” and, “What are you _thinking_ leaving her alone before she wakes up?” 

In some ways, William was a chip off the old block. Like the way they instantly bonded with certain brilliant babbling blonds.

So Oliver paced at the end of Felicity’s bed. Useless. 

William was just being checked out as a precaution, thank God. Still it killed Oliver to leave his son alone so soon after he had lost his mother. Hell, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that they were now safe. 

In the last few weeks, Oliver had struggled with letting William out of his sight to go to the bathroom. With good reason.

But Felicity…

God, _Felicity_.

She should have woken up by now. It made no sense that she hadn’t and each progressive second she ‘slept’, his guts tied in increasingly complicated knots.

Oliver couldn’t lose her. He _couldn’t_.

William couldn’t either.

And Oliver knew that was something his son feared. Deeply. In the short month they’d known each other, William and Felicity had grown close. Even before Sam had been killed.

Kindred spirits, Samantha had called them with a soft regretful smile. It had made Oliver’s heart hurt to watch them together. In the best possible way.

But more than their instant affinity for each other, Oliver knew William wanted his father by Felicity’s side because the boy blamed himself for his new step-mother’s condition. 

Just like Oliver blamed _himself_.

Of all the ways for William to take after him.

A nurse came in to take Felicity’s vitals and, taking one look at Oliver’s agitated state, offered to stay with his wife so he could check on his son. He wondered if it was out of kindness or if he was driving them all nuts with his constant pacing. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like Oliver was going to turn her down. He rushed to William’s room, having already memorized the path in the unfamiliar hospital, grateful to be doing _something_ , as small as it was, and unwilling to waste a minute in the hallway.

Or maybe Oliver didn’t know how to _stop_ rushing, to stop moving. It was all he had done for the last five weeks.

Ever since he had been released.

Not escaped.

_Released_.

After being kidnapped and tortured. By Prometheus. _Adrian Chase_. Oliver’s DA. A man he had trusted, had called friend…

Christ, was Oliver ever going to learn how to read people?

His so-called _friend_ had tortured him, but that Oliver could deal with. It wasn’t the first time. Or the tenth. He could handle it. He’d admit the sick fucking bastard was one of the most creative psychopaths he’d ever met, but he could take the abuse, physical and mental. 

It was the threats that drove Oliver insane.

He had threatened everyone Oliver cared about. Thea. Felicity. William. 

_Everyone_.

And it was terrifying.

Because there was nothing idle about Prometheus’ threats. The man didn’t bluff. 

But there was only one person Chase threatened who was _completely_ defenseless. 

So as soon as Oliver stumbled back to the Bunker, he’d focused on one thing. Finding his son.

With his wife’s full support. 

Because Felicity Smoak-Queen was fucking perfect.

It took her twenty-four hours to locate William and his mother, most of which Oliver had spent in the Bunker med-bay semi-conscious from burn wounds and exhaustion. But as soon as Felicity had a location, he’d dragged himself up and they flew across the country to Ohio.

And thank God they had. Because if he had hesitated, if he had taken even an hour more…

When Oliver and Felicity had showed up in the small development outside Cincinnati William was at his bus stop.

Talking to Adrian _fucking_ Chase.

It was an ugly show-down. Adrian actually had the nerve to involve local parents, trying to convince them _Oliver_ was trying to kidnap the boy. The lies that poured from that psychopath’s mouth…

If Felicity wasn’t there, Oliver probably would have lost his shit in the middle of the goddamn cul de sac, in front of a half-dozen moms and their kids.

Thankfully William was a smart kid. And he recognized Oliver. 

It was enough to turn the tide in their favor and slip away from Chase. To grab Samantha and try to find some place safe.

Only there hadn’t been a safe place. 

Oliver should have brought John. Thea. Rene. Curtis. _Someone_.

But he’d left them all behind to defend the city (from Prometheus, ironically), leaving Oliver on the run with two people who had no idea how to defend themselves and Felicity, who while a force to be reckoned with, he preferred locked in a reinforced Bunker when things got ugly.

And things had never been uglier.

They couldn’t get a break, couldn’t stay in one place long enough to even call for back-up. Every time they thought they could breathe, Chase found them. And each time _he_ seemed to have more back-up.

Talia. Black Siren. Evelyn.

The last one really hurt. It wasn’t hard to believe his ex-protégé would turn on him, but that she would fall so low as to _hunt_ an innocent woman and child just to hurt him…

Again, Oliver had been wrong about someone. So, _so_ wrong.

It had been maybe ten days on the run, tensions running high, when they had found a motel in the middle of Indiana. 

Samantha had gone to get something from the car. William went with her, just wanting some fresh air. 

It was only a few feet away. Yelling distance, really. And William was with his _mother_.

It was the stupidest decision Oliver had ever made.

Chase had gone for William first. Samantha was just a bonus. 

But she had surprised them all, taken Adrain off guard. Sam had attacked him. With her _bare_ fists.

It had given Oliver and Felicity the time they needed to grab William.

It had gotten Samantha’s neck snapped.

And Oliver’s son had been there. 

He’d watched his mother murdered. Watched the father he had known for a week grapple with the murderer, screaming and struggling as Felicity held him back.

Chase had seemed pleased with his work for the day and disappeared with a laugh, leaving Oliver with his wife and traumatized son and a increasingly intense desperation to keep them both safe.

But there was no place safe.

For weeks, they’d traveled from one compromised ARGUS safe house to another and were on their way to Central City, hoping that some powered friends may finally tip the balance in their favor.

They’d stopped to get something to eat in a small diner just this side of the Missouri border. 

So stupid. 

Oliver couldn’t even remember how it all went down. 

The diner hadn’t been empty. There’d been a smattering of locals, even a couple cops, but none of them were a match for Chase and his goons. Not even close.

But the one thing Oliver would never forget was standing there, Adrian Chase with his hands all over his son, a gun pressed to the _innocent_ twelve year-old’s temple. 

He remembered how terrified he’d been. He remembered talking to Chase. He didn’t remember what he said, what he promised, but Oliver was pretty sure he would have offered Chase anything at that point. _Anything_ to assure William and Felicity’s safety.

“O—dad,” William called out as soon as Oliver stepped into the small room, jumping up from the bed.

The “dad” wasn’t something Oliver had earned. It wasn’t something William had chosen. It was part of their cover.

When two adults and a child were trying not to draw attention, they had to look like the all American family. They had to _act_ like the all American family. And when that family was rushed to a hospital in the middle of _No-Where_ Iowa after a shooting and didn’t want anyone to question the custody of that child…

Legally, there was nothing saying William was Oliver’s. They had no proof. His mother was dead. The last thing any of them wanted was to have the Iowa Child Protection Agency swoop in and try to take temporary custody.

So whether William liked it or not, Oliver was, ‘Dad.’

“What are you doing here?” William demanded. “What’s going on with Felicity?”

This was a familiar refrain by now.

“Sleeping,” Oliver tried to reassure. Unfortunately, the crack in his voice didn’t do a lot to sell it.

William scoffed and rolled his eyes. Oliver had learned he was good at that. He had the angsty preteen thing down.

But if any kid had a right to his angst it was William.

“People don’t just fall _asleep_ after they shoot someone and take a nice long nap!”

William’s angry words triggered an instant replay in Oliver’s mind.

He could actually feel the blood splatter hit him. See it cover the side of William’s face and jacket.

Because while Adrian and Oliver had been engaged in a fierce battle of words, Felicity had grabbed one of the cops’ discarded guns and shot Chase point blank. 

In the head.

_“You are_ not _hurting my children!”_

It was the last thing Oliver remembered hearing. 

The last thing Felicity said.

Then she pulled the trigger and the world slowed to a crawl.

Chase hadn’t had time to react. Not an eyebrow or a twitch of his lip. Oliver lunged and and shoved the gun away from his sons head, pulling William away. 

Adrain fell backward. 

Someone screamed. 

One of the cops made a grab for Thalia but she was already gone. 

And Felicity…

She had collapsed into the arms of the waitress.

And hadn’t woken up since.

“The doctor said there is nothing physically wrong with her,” Oliver told William, not for the first time. “He said she’s sleeping.”

It wasn’t a lie. Those were the doctor’s exact words. 

And they sounded as asinine to Oliver as they must to William.

William crossed his arms and stared at his father, his jaw set in an obstinate angle that Oliver had seen far too often in the mirror. “She’s in a stupor. I’ve read about it. It’s like a psychological coma. Because she killed someone. For me. I bet she doesn’t want to—”

Oliver couldn’t stand it. Every word out of William’s mouth made him want to claw his skin off.

Stepping into William’s space, Oliver grabbed his arms, and said with every ounce of conviction he possessed, “Felicity _wants_ to wake up.” He refused to contemplate anything else. “She saw an opportunity to save us and she took it. That’s what family does.”

But the fact that Felicity had had to kill made Oliver physically ill. 

If there was one person on Earth that was too good, too moral to ever have to bare that burden it was Felicity.

But now she had to. Because Oliver had failed to protect them. 

And Felicity would kick his ass for even thinking that.

Because she was strong. Far too strong for this to break her. 

This was a burden Oliver wanted to spare his wife. But Felicity _could_ bare it. He was certain of that. 

Oliver didn’t know what this ‘psychological coma’ thing was, or if it even existed outside of whatever fiction William liked to read, but that wasn’t his Felicity.

“She’s not in a stupor. She’s just sleeping.” This time Oliver’s voice was fierce and a whole lot more believable. “It all caught up to her. You know how exhausted she was. Besides that, they said she was really dehydrated.”

Because along with everything else, Oliver couldn’t even make sure his wife had enough to drink.

William frowned at him. It was a lot like a pout, but was way too fierce to be. God, the child he barely knew wasn’t a little kid anymore.

“Well, since you’re here,” William finally announced, “you can get me discharged. I’m _fine_. We should be with Felicity.”

It was something Oliver could both agree with and actually accomplish, so he nodded and immediately called for a nurse. 

After being assured that his son was healthy, William was discharged to his care.

It was incredible how no one in the hospital questioned custody in the slightest. As thankful as Oliver was, he couldn’t help but feel security should be tighter.

They had washed the blood off William’s skin and hair, but it was still on his clothing (though his jacket was thrown away and he had been given a new one from the charity bin). Oliver would have liked to get him a new shirt too, but getting back to Felicity was the priority and the discharge process had taken longer than either of them would have liked.

The nurse he’d left with Felicity was standing outside her room, smiling from ear to ear. Oliver really hoped that was a good sign.

“She’s awake,” the nurse announced as soon as they were in front of her.

Oliver’s stomach flipped over. It was followed by a wave of dizziness both from relief _and_ from guilt for not being there when Felicity woke up. 

Again. 

“Is she okay?” William asked, because Oliver’s twelve-year old was more on the ball than he was. 

The nurse nodded, though there was a odd look on her face when she met Oliver’s eyes. “She asked to speak with you alone first.”

There was a moment where William looked completely crestfallen before he carefully schooled his features. Oliver was torn between rushing in to see Felicity and comforting his son.

Torn between the two most important people in his life.

Again.

“Just for a few minutes, kiddo,” the nurse addressed William, saving Oliver from having to outright choose. “They have grown-up things to discuss. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you where we hide the good snacks?”

William nodded, keeping his chin up. 

He was already so brave. 

He shouldn’t have to be.

“Go talk to Felicity,” William told Oliver. It was a command.

Oliver didn’t see how there was anything to do but obey. He nodded and squeezed William’s shoulder, then did what he’d wanted to do from the first. Rush in to see his wife.

Felicity was sitting up, looking healthy if a little pale. Her eyes immediately found his and she whimpered, “Oliver. Oh _God_ , Oliver…”

She opened her arms and he went to her, cupping her face and wiping away her tears.

“It’s okay, honey. You’re okay. We’re all okay,” Oliver stammered, the words flying out. He had no idea if any of them were true but Felicity was letting out soft sobs and clinging to him and he’d do anything to make it better for her.

“William?” Felicity choked out, into the now drenched place between Oliver’s neck and shoulder.

“Fine. Completely fine,” Oliver assured, stroking her back, slipping his hand under the back of her hospital gown to try and warm her too cool skin. “He’s been checked out and discharged. He went with your nurse to get snacks. You saved him, baby. You saved him.”

Another sob, the most heartbreaking one yet, burst free and Felicity clutched his neck even tighter. 

“It’s okay…it’s okay…” Oliver murmured, dragging her closer, hoping… _praying_ he was telling the truth.

Felicity took a deep shaky breath and sniffled, pulling back. “I have something I have to tell you.” She swiped at her eyes and reached blindly for the bedside table. 

Knowing instinctively what she was looking for, Oliver found her glasses and placed them carefully on her nose, smoothing Felicity’s messy curls behind her ears. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”

His voice was surprisingly even despite the fact that Oliver’s stomach was twisting itself into progressively more complicated knots. What could she possibly have to tell him that she didn’t want William here for? That would have Felicity this upset?

Jesus Christ, let her be okay.

Felicity burst into tears and…

_God_ , Oliver didn’t know what to do. What…?

“I’m sorry, Oliver. I’m _so_ sorry,” Felicity sobbed and it was so unlike her, it was starting to terrify him. 

“No, honey,” Oliver countered, shaking his head. He was working on pure instinct, fighting the fact that his throat was starting to seize up. “I’m the one that’s sorry. That you were in that position in the first place. I shouldn’t have let Chase—”

Felicity shook her head, lip trembling, tears flying. “It’s not that. It’s not—”

“Chase—”

Grabbing his hands, Felicity held them so tightly her nails dug into his skin as she said fiercely, “Oliver, I’m _glad_ I killed Chase. I’m glad he’s dead. Anything to keep him from hurting the people I love.” She clenched her jaw and there was something terrifying in her eyes. “I’d do it again.”

Oliver believed her and that was just as scary. 

Oh, he was proud of her. So fucking proud. But Oliver’d never wanted this for her. 

“You’ll never have to,” he vowed. “I’ll—”

Oliver was cut off by two of Felicity’s fingers against his lips. “I may have to. But that’s not…that’s not what I have to tell you. Not what I’m sorry about.”

Fuck.

Why was that even scarier?

“Felicity—?”

“Shush,” she hushed him again, pressing her fingers even more firmly to his lips. “We don’t have a lot of time and I want to be the one to explain.”

Holy shit. 

But Oliver said, “Okay,” because he needed to know. Now.

Because whatever Felicity said, it couldn’t possibly be as terrible as the horrible thoughts that were even now starting to assault him.

Felicity swallowed and when she started speaking it was at full speed, as if she was afraid she’d lose her nerve if she didn’t say it all at once. “We swore we’d never keep secrets from each other and I’ve been keeping a pretty big one. I didn’t _lie_. I never _lied_. But I had a suspicion, an _enormous_ suspicion, plus evidence…a _lot_ of evidence actually but…at first I just didn’t want to think about it. Not until I absolutely had to and I knew if I told you, it would make it real, you know?”

Oliver didn’t know. He had _no idea_ what she was talking about.

That wasn’t true. Actually, he had a lot of ideas. They were just all terrifying and most of them involved his wife dying of a horrible illness.

“Finally, I couldn’t ignore it anymore,” Felicity continued without taking a breath. 

Should he tell her to breathe? 

That would probably require Oliver to breathe.

“So I went to the drug store and I…I was _going_ to tell you. I _was_. I didn’t want to do it without you. I wanted us to find out for _sure_ together. But then…”

Felicity broke off with a sob and Oliver thought he might have a heart attack. 

“Then you were kidnapped and when you got back everything was so horrible and we _needed_ to get William,” Felicity was a runaway train now. “I didn’t want to distract you. I didn’t want to _be_ distracted. It was a stupid, emotional decision, but I decided to just _not know_ until I had time to know and now…”

Tears were streaming down her face and Oliver was afraid she was going to hyperventilate. 

Or maybe that was him.

Gulping, Oliver cut in, “Felicity, I don’t know what you’re talking about. _What_ didn’t you tell me? What didn’t you want to know?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Pregnant.

…

Did Felicity just say, ‘ _Pregnant_?’

As in her….as in them…as in this whole time…

As in a _baby_?

Holy _fuck_.

To say shock washed over him would be an understatement.

All of Oliver’s muscles went limp and he fell back into the chair by the bed with a heavy thump.

He’d admit that a good portion of it was from relief, he’d been half-expecting her to tell him she had cancer or something equally terrible. A baby was a lot better than cancer.

A lot _lot_ better.

And…

Dear God. Felicity was _pregnant_?

How?

Well, he knew how but…

Fucking hell. For the last six weeks Oliver had been dragging her all over the country, barely sleeping, fighting for their lives. With his wife. 

His pregnant _wife_.

“How long?” Oliver murmured, not sure if he was asking Felicity or himself. His brain was spinning, trying to figure it out, but he was _so_ not capable of math right then. 

“It was…the Sex Pollen.”

The Sex Pollen?

Of _course_ it was the Sex Pollen. Oliver wanted to laugh, but he didn’t have that kind of muscle control. He felt like he was surrounded by water.

“I told you I hadn’t been on birth control and I…I didn’t take Plan B,” Felicity confessed. Then she sat back, her face all screwed up as if she were in pain. Braced for condemnation.

His eyes widened. He…okay, it made sense that they’d conceived on Christmas Eve morning. They hadn’t used birth control and had had an obscene amount of sex but…

Felicity never told him she’d taken Plan B. Oliver had never asked. He hadn’t thought too much of it, which seemed really stupid right then.

But he just kinda assumed that if it was something they needed to worry about Felicity would have said something. 

Why hadn’t she said something?

“I…why?”

That question needed more words. Oliver knew that. But he didn’t know what those other words should be. 

Felicity’s lip trembled. “I just couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t _tell me_?” Why would she feel like she needed to keep that from him? 

“No…no, _of course_ not. Which now that I say it out loud makes no sense, since I _didn’t_ tell you.” Felicity shook her head, clearly frustrated with herself. Oliver might be frustrated too if he could get his brain to work. “I couldn’t take _the pill_. I just couldn’t. It was you and me and…I _couldn’t_ …”

That was when it started to break through the fog. 

The joy.

Felicity had known the risk. Known that after their night together in his office she could get pregnant. She’d been given an out. A simple medical solution that every woman there had and she hadn’t taken it.

Because it was them.

Because it would be _their_ baby.

Holy _Christ_ , they were going to have a baby. 

Him and Felicity.

A _baby_.

It was overwhelming. It was…

The best thing Oliver could imagine.

And Felicity looked like she was about to start sobbing. Again.

He sprang to his feet and leaned forward. Cupping Felicity’s face in his hands, he kissed her. Hard. “I love you!”

Felicity burst into tears.

Oliver felt a brief surge of panic, but she was clinging to his wrists, not letting him withdraw, and…these _could_ be happy tears but fuck if he could tell.

“You’re not angry?” Felicity gasped out between sobs.

For some reason, that made Oliver smile. He might be delirious.

He sat next to Felicity on the bed and wiped her tears away. “Baby, I’m feeling a _lot_ of things. Shock, happiness, terror…a lot of terror, actually. We’re about to become parents of a traumatized middle-schooler and an _infant_.”

Now Oliver _really_ thought he was going to hyperventilate.

But Felicity laughed, though she was still crying, and nodded her head. “I know. I…I’m still sorry, Oliver. I promise I’ll never keep—”

Oliver cut her off with a finger to her lips. “Shh…Felicity, we’re about to be _parents_. We _are_ parents.” Holy fuck. “And we have a lot of enemies. Things are going to get really complicated. Don’t make promises you can’t keep—”

“But—”

“Felicity, I _trust you_.” Oliver grabbed both her hands and squeezed. “If you have to keep something from me, I know it will be because its in my best interest and the best interest of our children.”

She really started to cry at that, flinging herself into his arms. Oliver was shocked when Felicity kissed him, all sloppy and wet, but he was laughing and crying himself by the time she was done.

Holy fuck, they were _parents_. 

To children. 

Plural.

And it was everything.

After they were both done crying, when Felicity sat back and Oliver wiped her cheeks and straightened her glasses, he looked in her eyes and…

“We’re going to have a baby,” he breathed. Oliver was having trouble believing it.

This time when Felicity laughed, there were fewer tears. Happier tears, he thought. “Yes, we are.”

It was only then it occurred to Oliver that she was in a hospital bed. Felicity had passed out and not come around for…way too long. She had been under a tremendous amount of stress and…a lot of other things that were not okay for a pregnant woman.

“Are you…is everything okay?” Oliver gestured to her stomach and was pretty sure the cause of his fear was obvious. 

Felicity’s smile faltered and that did not help.

_“Fe-li-ci-ty_ , is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed in a small voice. “The doctor—”

“Hello, hello, _hello_ …” A tall thin man interrupted, swinging open the door and pushing a huge portable medical…thing, in front of him. He threw them both a wide smile and held out his hand. “I’m Dr. Garcia, the OB on call. I hear congratulations are in order!”

Oliver shook his hand, but when he took in Felicity’s terrified face, he couldn’t help but think that congratulations were a bit premature.

Intertwining his fingers with Felicity’s, Oliver stood but kept as close as he possibly could. “We’re a little worried that after the trauma…”

The doctor’s smile didn’t waver in the slightest. Oliver couldn’t imagine he didn’t know about the little scene at the diner. He couldn’t imagine anyone in the _state_ didn’t know about that by now.

“Understandable,” Dr. Garcia agreed, though he didn’t look like he had a care in the world as he adjusted his machine. “That’s why I’m here, to take a look at the little one. I’m not too worried, not with your blood levels.” He turned to Felicity. “Will this be your first ultrasound?”

Felicity looked like she couldn’t decide whether she should be laughing or hyperventilating, but she managed a nod.

“Well, you are in for a treat.”

Oliver sure as hell hoped so. He didn’t know what either of them would do if something was wrong.

God, he’d known about the baby for a whole five minutes and he was already certain he would be devastated if they lost it.

And Felicity had known, or at least suspected, for a lot longer. 

Oliver lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. Then held it in both of his.

Dr. Garcia was typing on the machine now. “So Mrs…” he looked down at the chart, “Smoak-Queen, do you know the date of your last period?”

Felicity shook her head, swallowing. “No, but I…I know the date of conception. It’s December 23. Or early December 24. Not sure the exact time…” She turned red and Oliver sent her a reassuring smile. 

But for some reason this information made the doctor pause. “Are you certain? That’s pretty specific and your HCG levels are rather high for that date?”

“What the hell does _that_ mean?” 

It wasn’t something Oliver meant to say out loud, but…yeah.

It was Felicity’s turn to be reassuring and she squeezed his hand, answering the doctor, her tone wry, “We’re sure. It’s hard to forget the date that you were gassed with a potent aphrodisiac.”

This time the doctor completely stopped. He turned toward them slowly, his eyes wide as he asked with far too much awe, “You two were Sex Pollen victims?” 

Seriously? Even here in the middle of no where? 

Oliver found himself sniping at the doctor, “Is that an official medical term now? Sex Pollen?”

What could he say? Fear over the safety of his wife and child made him testy. And the doctor who was assigned to take care of them was busy quoting fanfiction.

Fuck his life.

But Dr. Garcia did not look in the least bit offended. “It’s what we’re calling it. Catchier than Aerosolized Disinhibiting Aphrodisiac Compound and you don’t even want me to try to pronounce the full chemical name.”

“Yes. We were exposed,” Felicity cut in, clearly losing her patience. “Star City. The December 23rd event. Is that going to be a problem for the baby?”

“No. No,” Dr. Garcia assured. “No reason to believe that.” His eyes were bright and his smile seemed almost too excited now. “You’re just past fourteen weeks, so we should be able to get a decent ultrasound. Just pull up your hospital gown and roll down your panties at bit. No need to take them off. I’ll get the gel warmed up for you.”

Taking a shaky breath, Felicity pulled up her hospital gown and Oliver…

He just restrained himself from gasping. There was a baby bump. 

A very _discernible_ baby bump. 

How the hell had he missed _that_? Yeah, they hadn’t been intimate since Sam…

In fact, they hadn’t been alone in almost a month. _At all._ Until now, one of them was with William at all times.

God, _William_.

Oliver really hoped he was okay with the nurse at the moment and…Oliver couldn’t even begin to wrap his head around telling his son that on top of all the other massive changes to his life he was about to be a big brother. He really hoped William liked little kids.

“Were you on birth control?” the doctor asked, as he squirted blue goo on Felicity’s not so flat tummy.

“No,” Felicity whispered, holding Oliver’s hand about as tightly as she was capable of. He knew that if he looked her knuckles would be white, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her belly.

_How_ had he not noticed? Oliver thought he noticed everything about his wife and, now, when it mattered most, he dropped the ball. What kind of crappy husband did that make him?

“Did you take Plan B?” The doctor asked and Felicity’s hand spasmed.

It was upsetting enough for Oliver to snap, “If she had, we wouldn’t be here, would we?” He really didn’t have the patience for stupid questions from overly cheerful mid-western doctors. His nerves couldn’t take it.

So when the OB responded to Oliver’s snark with a wide grin, the man was lucky for the strength of Felicity’s grip on his hand. “Not necessarily. It’s been written up in all the journals. The gas you were exposed to causes increased fertility. People on birth control, women with IUDs, all getting pregnant. Woman who thought they were infertile or perimenopausal. Even the ones who took Plan B.”

“Oh,” Felicity breathed, a blank shocked expression on her face. 

“Did you…?” The doctor asked.

“Take Plan B? No. I knew I had only been with…my husband.” He hadn’t been her husband at the time, but the doctor sure as hell didn’t need that detail. Felicity swallowed and sent Oliver a tiny smile. It made him want to kiss her. “So I just…didn’t.”

The doctor’s grin widened and Oliver wasn’t sure he wanted to know why. This guy was a weirdo. Increased fertility if a couple wanted to get pregnant was great. Increased fertility in a group of non-consenting, unattached people was a disaster.

How many gas victims were there now? There had been…eight…nine incidents. How many women? Were they all…?

Fuck!

Oh no. 

Oh no no _no_ ….

“Is _every_ woman exposed pregnant?” Oliver asked, fear churning in his stomach. “My sister—?”

Felicity gasped, pulling Oliver’s hand to her chest but, thankfully, Dr. Garcia was shaking his head. “No. No. Plenty of people’s birth control worked. I’m not even sure every person who didn’t use it became pregnant, just that women are conceiving at a _much_ higher percentage than expected. Plan B is usually 95% effective and it’s looking like when combined with the drug it might be as low at 50%, but that’s only for people who didn’t combine it with another method.”

Thea would have taken Plan B, right? Oliver hadn’t asked her either, but he couldn’t imagine why she wouldn’t have.

The doctor sent Oliver his first genuinely sympathetic look and said softly, “I would have your sister get checked out though. Just in case.”

Just in case. Fuck. Thea was having a hard enough time dealing with everything she’d been through in the last year without dealing with an unplanned pregnancy with a man she couldn’t even remember sleeping with. Was it too late for an abortion to be an option. Oliver thought maybe it was.

Blowing out a breath, Felicity patted Oliver’s hand, offering, “Thea has an IUD, I’m certain. But I can talk to her if you’d like.”

Oliver nodded, absently. That was somewhat comforting but—

Then the doctor placed the wand from his Ultrasound machine on Felicity’s belly and Oliver’s brain came to a complete stand-still.

_Woosh. Woosh. Woosh…_

His eyes flew to the screen where a weird alien-looking form had appeared. 

“Is that…?” Oliver leaned forward, his voice hoarse.

“Your baby? Yup.”

Holy crap.

Felicity let out a sob and she pulled their still entwined hands to her lips. Oliver could feel tears on the back of her hand but he….he couldn’t take his eyes from the screen. 

“He…or she looks good,” Dr. Garcia murmured, his attention focused on his task.

“Is…are they supposed to look like an alien?” Felicity asked and Oliver was glad she did, because he was thinking it. 

The doctor chuckled. “Yes. Babies’ heads develop first, so at this stage it’s completely normal for them to look a little alien like.”

That was a relief. Kara excepted, Oliver wasn’t a fan of aliens. 

Also, holy _fuck_ , that was their _kid_.

“Now let me…” the doctor seemed to be talking mostly to himself as he moved the wand of the sono machine across Felicity’s bump. 

The _woosh woosh_ that Oliver presumed was the heart beat became muffled, then seemed to go double time before settling into the same rhythm as before.

“What was _that_?!” This time it was Felicity who did the demanding and Oliver did not like the terror in her voice, but he kept his eyes on the doctor and held his breath.

Doctor Garcia laughed.

Oliver wondered if the man knew just how close he came to being punched by the Green Arrow.

“That…or rather _this_ ,” the doctor pointed to the screen, “is Baby B.”

“As opposed to…?” Felicity asked, her voice as high and reedy as Oliver had ever heard it.

Doctor Garcia swept the wand back to the first area on Felicity’s stomach. “Baby A.” He sent them a triumphant grin (as if he could claim credit for anything other than giving them both panic attacks), then went back to examining Baby B.

At which point Oliver collapsed back into the chair. It was a good thing, since standing while he wasn’t breathing was a bad idea in general, but especially bad for a man who had just become responsible for an additional _two_ babies.

Baby A and Baby B.

As if one infant wasn’t overwhelming enough. They were having two. For certain. Oliver had seen them with his own two eyes. Heard the heart beats.

Two babies.

Plus William.

Oliver had always (secretly) wanted a big family. He just didn’t think he would get it all at once. 

Be careful what you wished for.

_Wishes come true. Not free._

Oliver remembered thinking that after they had first been gassed and it looked like Sex Pollen was the gift that kept on giving.

Ha!

He was going insane.

Only he couldn’t go insane. He didn’t have _time_ to be insane. Oliver was a father.

Of three!

“You don’t seem surprised,” Felicity was saying to the doctor, in that same high, borderline hysterical voice.

Her nails were digging into the back of Oliver’s hand.

He liked it. It grounded him. 

Dr. Garcia, who remained blissfully unaware (or uncaring) of their mutual panic, answered cheerfully, “The women who were exposed to the gas and who weren’t on contraceptives have an above average…a _well_ above a average…chance of multiples. I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

Felicity laughed and it was just this side of deranged. Oliver was pretty sure he would have too, but his lungs just wouldn’t hold the necessary air.

Should ‘hopes up’ and ‘multiples’ really be in the same sentence??

“Twins?” Oliver breathed and he knew it was a bit delayed, but…what the fuck? _Twins_!

Instead of answering (because that was what a normal doctor would do), Dr. Garcia hummed and stayed focused on the wand. “This one looks good too. Heart rate: 152. Good size for fourteen weeks. Now just let me…”

The doctor moved the wand again, gliding it along Felicity’s skin and…

Oh.

Oh _God_.

Oliver had a terrible feeling he knew _exactly_ what the doctor was looking for.

Closing his eyes and counting his breaths, Oliver tried to even them in the way Shado had taught him. Felicity needed him. His _children_ needed him.

His many, many children.

Oliver really _had_ to stay conscious.

“Ah-ha! There we are, baby number three!”

Oliver’s eyes popped open and he took in the fuzzy image on the screen, squirming and kicking, vaguely baby shaped. Baby number three.

Fuck.

Fuckity fuck _fuck_.

“Holy shit.”

Felicity let out a choked sound and Oliver tore his eyes from the screen, forced himself to look at her. To not be selfish. To be there for his wife.

The mother of his children.

His many, _many_ children.

Said paragon was nodding, as if agreeing with his ‘holy shit’ assessment of the situation. She was also white as a ghost and that couldn’t be good. For her or the babies.

Babies. 

Plural.

“Baby C is a bit smaller, but still completely normal. I’ll get all of their exact measurements but—”

“You need to check for more,” Felicity finished in a strange monotone. “We know. We get it. Just…” She waved her free hand at the doctor, the one not currently making a pin cushion of Oliver’s hand, to say…get on with it.

And Oliver couldn’t agree more.

Multiples.

Was there a scarier word?

But however many their were they needed to know.

As soon as possible.

Then they could freak out.

Because what the fuck were they going to do? What was _Oliver_ going to do? He already didn’t have enough time to do both of his jobs well. The only reason his wife wasn’t completely neglected was because she ran his night job.

How was she going to have time to do _any_ job? Did mothers of multiples work? Could they?

God, those billions he lost would be useful right about now. 

And William…Oliver had already been worried how he would find enough time to be a good father to William.

And _he_ could walk and talk and feed himself.

But William had just lost his mother. Abruptly and violently. He needed his father more than ever and now they were adding not just one baby to the mix, they were adding _multiples_.

Mother fucking _multiples_.

They didn’t even know how many babies they were talking about. Was this even real? This was starting to feel a little bit like a fever dream. 

How many babies would actually fit in Felicity’s belly? She was so small. 

Finally, Dr. Garcia let out a breath (one that sounded suspiciously disappointed). “It looks like we’re topping out at only three.”

“Only?” Felicity squeaked, but she sounded a little less hysterical. 

Probably relieved. They had been reduced to being _relieved_ that they were _only_ having triplets. Mother fucking triplets.

Still…

“Thank _God_!” Oliver burst out and Felicity laughed, nodding in vigorous agreement.

Then his brilliant wife added, “Are you _sure_ there are only three? As in _absolutely_ sure there aren’t any more hiding? I think you should check, because we can’t handle any more surprises. We’ve had enough _surprises_.”

Dr. Garcia chuckled, because the man was beyond emotionally tone-deaf, but he did as was told. 

Oliver locked eyes with Felicity and she became serious as she whispered, “Maybe we’ve _already_ had too many surprises?”

They _had_ had too many surprises. 

But that wasn’t what Felicity was asking. 

She was asking if it was too much for _him_. If she and the babies were too much. If Oliver could handle it.

And he was glad he wasn’t under the influence of Truth Serum because he really didn’t know if he _could_ handle it.

But mostly Felicity was asking if he would stay. If this was enough to make Oliver leave her. And that was one thing he _knew_ the answer to. Absolutely and completely.

He pressed a hard kiss to the back of Felicity’s hand and smiled at her, saying with an emotion choked voice, “Just the right number of surprises.”

Felicity’s face melted and Oliver could see the relief. The love.

“Oliver…” she whispered. Just that. Just his name. 

Swallowing, Oliver leaned close and whispered, “Felicity, I…I don’t know how we are going to do this and…I’m terrified I’m going to fuck up but…God, Felicity they will be loved. _That_ I can promise.”

Pressing her lips together, Felicity nodded, tears streaming down her face.

“And they’ll never be left,” Oliver promised just in case that wasn’t clear. “None of y… _our_ children will ever be left. They will never be separated. We’ll find a way. I _swear_ this to you.”

Felicity reached for him and (careful of the doctor and his wand) Oliver kissed her, wiping away the seemingly ever present tears.

“Sorry, I’m happy I swear. Hormones.” Felicity waved a hand in front of her face and Oliver laughed and that was the first time it was completely genuine. No breakdown pending.

“Well, Mom and Dad,” Dr. Garcia sang and Oliver wrapped an arm around Felicity’s shoulder, bracing himself. “It looks like you are definitely having triplets and _only_ triplets.”

“You’re certain?” Felicity repeated.

The doctor looked her in the eye and nodded. And look at that, Dr. Garcia actually had really kind eyes when Oliver wasn’t freaking out. “They’re too big to miss at this point. That last one was trying to play hide and seek, but we found him.”

Oliver’s throat burned. Hide and seek. They were going to be playing hide and seek and it wouldn’t be with criminals.

Wow.

There was a knock at the door.

Then the door cracked open and William called out, “Mom, Dad, can I come in?”

The names were just part of the show but they still made Oliver’s heart flip. He locked eyes with Felicity and…

Holy hell, now he had to tell his twelve year-old he was going to be a big brother. 

Times three.

And wonderful father that he was, Oliver’s mind went blank. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This pregnancy reveal was a struggle and I think I must have been dealing with what the Arrow writers so often floundered at, how to make the story go where I wanted it to without compromising character development.
> 
> I knew I wanted the story to end up here, with Oliver finding out Felicity was pregnant in the hospital, but how to do that without throwing away all the progress they had made. It was bad enough that after the incident with the Truth Serum, she didn’t tell him about not taking Plan B. 
> 
> At first, I had Felicity finding out she was pregnant for certain right before Oliver was kidnapped, but I decided if she had _proof,_ she was pregnant she couldn’t keep it from him for the entire month. 
> 
> I considered having her not even suspect at all and having them both find out in the hospital. There was a lot going on, maybe Felicity thought it was stress? But come on? A triplet pregnancy where she had no symptoms for the first three months? There was no way. She’s way too smart for that.
> 
> This was my compromise. Felicity suspected, but hadn’t taken a test and had chosen denial because she knew Oliver would send her away if he knew and she wanted to be with him and William. She gets to explain herself a little at the beginning of the next chapter.
> 
> It was the best I could do and I do like the way it worked out, but I you feel like I’m stretching things a bit…I’d appreciate a little suspension of disbelief. 
> 
> Now that this Author’s Note is far too long, I’ll just say thank you to **mariposablue9** and **Ireland1733**. And to everyone who has supported me. The last chapter will be up next week and I CAN NOT BELIEVE IT!
> 
> I hope to hear from you all and see you here next week.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Ps. I _am_ working on _Another Kind of Island_ and plan to start posting new chapters in two weeks.


	19. Epilogue: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a week this has been.
> 
> Here in the U.S., I’ve never seen a week more dramatically change everything in our day to day lives. And I lived through September 11. A New Yorker, recently moved to Washington, D.C. to do my residency. I was working at Fairfax Hospital that morning and my ex-boyfriend worked on the 62nd floor in the World Trade Center.
> 
> My ex survived and is now my husband, so 9/11 pretty dramatically changed my life. But this, _this_ is surreal. 
> 
> Even though I’ve barely left the house since Wednesday (God, was it only since _Wednesday_?), I think you guys will understand that my mind hasn’t been on fanfiction. Luckily, this was finished and the next chapter of _Another Kind of Island_ was close enough that it will be up next Sunday (I think we all need something to look forward to).
> 
> After that, like the rest of the world, I’m taking things day-by-day.
> 
> To the worst hit amongst us, those in Italy, China, Washington State, New York and many more, my heart and best wishes are with you. For those of you who may still think this is hysteria or even a hoax, trust me when I say it is not. _Please_ , take this seriously. Now is the time for the whole world to work together.
> 
> And now on to the last chapter of It’s in the Air. I hope you enjoy it!

**It’s in the Air**

**Epilogue: Part 2**

The decision not to tell Oliver about Felicity’s suspicion she was pregnant was less a decision and more a…perpetual state of not deciding.

And denial. 

Definitely denial.

Which didn’t mean Felicity didn’t want a baby with her husband. She did. It was just…

The universe seemed to be telling her what a terrible idea it was and it wasn’t even subtle about it. 

Things with Prometheus just kept getting worse and worse. Then there was Black Siren and Talia al Gul and Oliver had been kidnapped and then they were on the run with William and Samantha was murdered and…

Was there a _worse_ time to bring a child into the world?

But denial could only get Felicity so far. Soon it had been impossible to ignore her rounding belly and sore breasts, the constant low level nausea and exhaustion. 

By that point, Felicity couldn’t pretend she wasn’t actively keeping this from her husband. But how could she add one _more_ thing to Oliver’s plate? He was stretched to his limit, drawn tighter than his bow since Samantha died, hypervigilant in his attempts to keep Felicity and William safe.

And the worst part, Oliver’s overprotectiveness had been completely justified. They _had_ been in constant danger. All of them. Chase was the most terrifying combination of insane and brilliant, and he’d hunted them relentlessly.

When Felicity had grabbed that gun, she really hadn’t hesitated. She had zero regret in killing him.

Because Adrian Chase was _not_ a human being.

And Felicity was very aware she would do anything it took to keep her family safe.

Her family.

Her rapidly growing family.

Families weren’t supposed to grow this quickly. 

But then again, there was nothing normal about the gas they’d been exposed to. Or the way Samantha had died.

It wasn’t that Felicity’d been worried that Oliver wouldn’t want a baby. At no point had that factored into her not telling him. 

Felicity was _certain_ Oliver would be excited about a baby. _Their_ baby.

Their _one_ baby.

Singular.

Adding William into the mix did make it less than ideal. Stressful, for sure. But still, overall, a good thing.

But three?

_Three_ infants. 

Possibly more.

And a twelve year-old.

It sounded like the formula for a sitcom. One that wasn’t at all funny in real life. 

When Felicity saw the first baby, she’d been relieved. The heart was beating. They were moving. They were…amazing. She was in love.

When she saw the second baby she was…overwhelmed. Still in love, but the relief she’d felt was beginning to give way to a whole new anxiety.

Then the _third_ …with the potential for even _more_ …

That’s when Felicity started to panic. Overwhelmed was too small a word. How were _three_ babies even going to _fit_ in there? Could her body even handle it? She was small-boned. And how would it affect the chip in her spine? How would the chip affect the babies?

And Oliver…

He’d been excited about _a_ baby.

Now, Oliver looked like he’d been electrocuted or hit by a truck or…

Like his whole world had imploded.

The slack-jawed emptiness on his face was maybe the scariest thing Felicity had ever seen, maybe even more than Adrian Chase.

Because it made her think of her own father. Made her remember the look he’d had on his face before he left.

Made Felicity feel like she was seven years-old again, abandoned and worthless.

If she wasn’t enough for Oliver, how could she be enough for these three lives in side her?

But there was still a rational brain underneath all those hormones and trauma. A small piece of Felicity that said she wasn’t being fair. To herself _or_ Oliver. That he wasn’t her father. He was better. He would never leave them.

Right?

So Felicity asked, “Maybe we’ve already had too many surprises?”

And maybe it was a test. But this was the first of many, many times Felicity was going to need him. In a way she had _never_ needed anyone before. This was going to be the most difficult thing she had ever done and _Oliver was necessary,_ God damn it.

There was no going back now. They were about to be the parents of four and all they could do was move forward, to make it work.

And God, Felicity couldn’t do this without her husband and she hated needing anyone but she couldn’t—

“Just the right number of surprises.” And the look on Oliver’s face was beautiful and loving and so very committed and…

Oh thank _God_.

Felicity knew it wasn’t really the ‘right number of surprises’. She knew it was at least a surprise or two over the ideal, but she also knew Oliver was answering the question in her head not the one she’d asked out loud.

And, dear heaven, how she loved him for it.

“Oliver…” Felicity looked in his eyes and saw that soft smile, saw the wonder and the steadfastness and the love and she knew…she _knew_ her fears were just that, old fears that had no basis in her current reality.

Then Oliver took it one step further and, leaning in, he whispered everything she needed to hear, “Felicity, I…I don’t know how we are going to do this and…I’m terrified I’m going to fuck up but…God, Felicity they will be loved. That I can promise. And they’ll never be left. None of y… _our_ children will ever be left. They will never be separated. We’ll find a way. I swear it to you.”

By the time Oliver was done, Felicity was full out weeping ( _again_ ) and she wished she had that speech on video so she could watch it over and over again. She’d be repeating it to herself anyway.

Every day for the rest of her life.

Felicity reached for him without thinking, forgetting the slimy goo on her stomach and the weirdly cheerful doctor examining her. The need to hold Oliver overwhelmed everything else. 

Luckily, _he_ was aware of the doctor and he gave him a wide berth as he carefully leaned over to kiss her. When he was done Oliver rested his hip on Felicity’s bed, staying next to her, wrapping his arm around her, grounding her.

God, he was perfect. What would Felicity do without him?

Dr. Garcia confirmed there weren’t anymore babies hiding in there and Felicity could have passed out she was so relieved.

Three.

Okay. They could do three. 

Triplets were a thing. A rare, but _natural_ thing. Something that actually happened without drugs or fertility treatments. It was something the female body could handle, right? More would have been…

Felicity can do triplets. She _could_.

She had no choice, so she would.

There was a knock at the door and they heard William call out, “Mom, Dad, can I come in?”

Mom.

William had been calling her that the last few weeks, but it was only part of their cover, only in public.

But soon there would be little people calling her that and meaning it.

Three someones.

Four, maybe. In time.

And by four, she meant William, because the idea of doing this _again_ was absolutely insane and Felicity couldn’t even contemplate it.

“Yeah, of course, honey,” Felicity called out and she was going to go ahead and blame pregnancy brain, because she didn’t think before she spoke. 

About what William was walking into.

About whether this was the best way for the newly motherless boy to find out he was going to be a big brother times three.

Felicity’s brain went something like this: William was family. He wanted to see them and they wanted to see him and _of course_ he could come in. 

She had only known the boy for a month but she already loved him. So so much. 

William burst in with a smile Felicity had so rarely seen. “You sound better? Are you better? You guys are not going to believe…”

His excited chatter came to an abrupt stop and William froze in the middle of the room, staring open-mouthed at Dr. Garcia and the Ultrasound machine. 

Maybe this was one surprise too many for the traumatized boy.

Frak, Felicity should have found a way to break this to him more gently. She was all ready failing at motherhood. Wonderful.

“Wha…what’s…is everything okay?” William stammered and it would be cute if it wasn’t so heartbreaking.

Oliver had gone white. He looked completely overwhelmed and…

Looked like this one was on her. 

Blowing out a breath, Felicity squeezed Oliver’s hand and forced a reassuring smile for their son. “Everything is _fine_.” Yeah and that squeak at the end, totally reassuring. “Dr. Garcia, this is our son, William.”

Oliver squeezed her shoulder so at least he approved of…whatever the hell Felicity was trying to do. 

Because William was scowling at the sonogram screen and that was _not_ good.

If there was ever a time when Felicity was glad she was good at pretending things were fine it was now (and she had a feeling it was a skill that would come in handy with motherhood). “William, Dr. Garcia is here to…”

Her voice gave out.

So much for being good at pretending.

It was the doctor who saved her. “I’m here to make sure your siblings are healthy. Which they are.” 

Or doomed her. One or the other. 

Dr. Garcia smiled at William in a way Felicity was starting to get used to. Like a fool.

Because _of course_ a middle schooler would be thrilled to welcome three screaming newborns into his home. 

The man seemed to believe everyone was unwaveringly ecstatic at the idea of having babies, the more the better. Had he never had someone have an unwanted pregnancy? Or was he just in complete denial?

Not that this pregnancy was unwanted. It was not. Not at all.

Felicity would just prefer to have three babies with three _separate_ pregnancies. 

With several years between.

And for William’s mother to be still alive. 

Yes, that would be ideal.

Of course, ideal and their lives were not a thing that happened so…

At the doctor’s words, William’s jaw fell open even further. God, he looked so much like his father. 

Would these babies look like Oliver too? Felicity really hoped so.

“Sib- _lings_?” William gaped and yeah…they should have broken this to him slowly. One sibling at a time maybe.

“Indeed,” chirped Dr Garcia, the half-crazed baby elf. Maybe that’s why he was so weird. Maybe he wasn’t human. “In six months you will be the proud big brother to _triplets_!”

Well, that was _one way_ to tell William.

Not the way Felicity would have chosen…

But at least it seemed to shock Oliver out of _whatever_ state he was in and he lunged for his son. Which was good because William looked like he was about to hit the floor. Hard.

Oliver led the dazed almost-teen to the chair he had vacated. “Sit down, Buddy. I…it’s a lot. I know.”

And that stammering placation was about a million times better than anything the ‘professional’ had said.

Or Felicity who had stupidly invited William into this hornet’s nest without preparation.

William shot his father a look brimming with anger and accusation and it tore Felicity’s heart to threads. She couldn’t imagine what it was doing to Oliver. 

“Did you know?” William demanded of his father. It was just a whisper but the tone pierced deep. 

Oliver looked as if the boy had struck him.

Or stabbed him in the heart. With his own arrow.

Felicity jumped in, “Your father had no idea. He was as shocked as you are.” Let’s just hope William was a fraction of as happy as Oliver was, when it all sank in. “I suspected but…both of you had enough to worry about.”

William slumped in his chair, his anger draining away into a good adolescent sulk. 

Not that he didn’t have the right to a good brood. If anyone did, he did.

William fixed Felicity with a stare and…she had no idea how to interpret it. 

Then Dr.Garcia, brilliant people-reader that he was, offered, “It’s a little early but I might be able to tell you if you should expect little brothers or little sisters. _If_ you want to know. What do you think?”

At least he asked. Given Dr. Garcia’s record Felicity wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d just blurted out the genders of her future children for everyone to hear.

William’s eyes snapped to the doctor and he answered with a quick, “Yes.”

And that shocked Felicity as much as anything so far. It was certainly the first sign of any enthusiasm for the death of William’s only child status.

Then the boy seemed to have realized what he had done and shot Felicity a guilty look. He turned his eyes to his lap, studying his hands and saying, “I mean…Sorry, I…if you guys want to be surprised…”

Felicity reached over to grab William’s hand, but all she could reach was his sleeve. Swallowing, she laid her hand there and said, “I think we’ve had enough surprises.”

That got the first semblance of a smile from the preteen and, as expected (by Felicity anyway), when William turned his big blue puppy-dog eyes to Oliver he caved immediately.

Frack, Oliver was going to be such a pushover as a dad.

Felicity wasn’t too worried about William. Samantha had raised a kid with a level head. But the others…

God help them. Felicity wondered if they’d make it to a year before they figured out how easy it was to manipulate their father.

Oliver turned to the doctor and said, “We’d like to know.”

Felicity was pretty sure Oliver didn’t even spare a thought for what he wanted in this scenario, but this time she didn’t mind. He wasn’t being a martyr. He was just being a dad.

William flashed his father one of those rare wide smiles and turned nervous (excited?) eyes to the screen where the doctor (who was definitely excited) was pointing.

“See this little guy, the hyperactive one?”

The figure on the screen kicked and squirmed, even did a summersault as they watched. Both Queen boys’ eyes lit up, but Felicity flinched, imagining exactly how _that_ was going to feel inside her in a month or two. Where they all gonna be that… _active_? 

Felicity shot Oliver a half-joking glare. “That one is definitely _your_ kid.”

Oliver beamed and shrugged apologetically. Or unapologetically. She wasn’t sure which.

Felicity turned her eyes back to Baby Queen, the acrobat. That one was going to be trouble. 

And Felicity was head over heals already. God help her.

“This one is a boy,” the doctor announced, because of _course_ he was. Was it possible to know exactly what a kid was like when they were only a three month old fetus’? Because Felicity was almost certain this one was going to be _exactly_ like his father. “See, here’s the penis.”

Felicity had to slap a hand over her mouth to suppress an inappropriate giggle and William turned red, squirming in his seat. He was smiling though. That was a good sign.

Taking a deep breath, Felicity glanced over at Oliver and… _wow_ , the look of awe on his face. Yeah, that’s what every new mother wanted to see. 

Exactly that.

“Uh, Oliver…dad…maybe you should sit down,” William said, turning Felicity’s giggle into a chuckle. 

The boy started to get up but Oliver stopped him with a loving smile. “You stay, son.” He grabbed another chair and wedged it in (somewhat) between them.

The whooshing of the heartbeat did that double time thing again and the doctor, unconcerned or unaware of the pretty heavy subtext playing out in the room, chuckled. “Looks like Baby A is not happy about B getting all the attention. That baby boy was B. A here…”

Felicity saw what she believed was the outline of two sacks, then Dr. Garcia moved the wand up and to the right and Baby A came in to view. 

Felicity couldn’t take her eyes off the screen.

These were her children. 

Holy heck. Her _children_. So real and alive and…

“Oof,” Felicity gasped as this new child thrust her arm out in a punch that was definitely all their dad.

“Did you feel that?” William asked, in awe.

Felicity could only shake her head. “No, just…imagining what it will feel like in a month or two.”

Oliver gave her a sympathetic look and murmured, “Sorry.”

Yeah, he should be. 

The doctor chuckled. “As small as you are and as active as these little guys seem, you’ll probably be feeling them soon enough.”

Great.

Actually, that _was_ kinda great. 

“You’re going to have your hands full.” 

Ya think?

“This little girl…yup these three lines, that’s her vagina there in the middle.”

“Ill…” William groaned, covering his eyes and Felicity would have laughed out loud if she wasn’t so busy crying.

Wow. A girl. 

A girl _and_ a boy.

At least they were efficient. 

A tear streamed down Oliver’s face and he didn’t even seem to notice.

Only the doctor had the voice to comment on William’s distress. “Given the number of diapers that will need to be changed in your household, you’d better get used to it, young man.”

William really looked horror-stricken now. 

Oliver laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and assured, “We don’t expect you to…” But he trailed off, going white.

“What’s wrong?” William asked, hesitantly.

“I…” Oliver shook his head. “I don’t…I’ve never changed a diaper in my life.”

Felicity patted his hand and tried to think of something reassuring to say, but couldn’t think of a thing. She wasn’t exactly an expert on all (any) things baby herself.

“You’ll pick it up quick,” the doctor said, sounding distracted. He was running that damn wand all over her belly, making sure not a speck of skin was free of the stupid blue goo. 

Felicity couldn’t suppress a grunt as he pushed particularly deep, stealing her breath.

“What? What did _you_ do?” Oliver immediately demanded. Playing the over-protective husband and father role he was so comfortable with.

“Sorry about that,” the doctor murmured (not nearly as concerned with Oliver as he should be). “Just trying to get a good view of Baby C. That one is tricky. Kind of shy. He…or she doesn’t seem to want us to get a good look.”

Dr. Garcia mustn’t have been that sorry, because he turned the wand and pushed it even harder. Oliver leaned in and whispered, “Is he hurting you? Because if he’s hurting you—?”

“It’s fine,” Felicity assured, because as odd as Dr. Garcia was, he didn’t deserve an arrow in his ass.

Whether he actually sensed he was in danger (Felicity doubted it) or not, Dr. Garcia gave up a minute later. “Looks like the last one is going to stay a mystery a little while longer. Maybe you’ll be able to tell the sex at your 20 week ultrasound.”

The doctor started to wipe up the blue goo and as awesome as it had been seeing her babies on the screen, Felicity slumped in relief. She was on information overload. They all needed to…process.

The doctor cleaned up and, with a promise of returning with printouts of each baby, he wheeled his machine out of the room.

Leaving the three of them.

Six of them?

Holy shit, there were about to be _six_ of them!

Felicity hadn’t lived with more than one person since her father left. This was…uh…gonna be an adjustment. 

“I have grandparents.”

William’s soft words drew both her and Oliver’s attentions and made Felicity realize he’d been awfully quiet. Too quiet.

“William?” Oliver prompted.

The boy didn’t look at him. He was looking at his lap as he twirled his ruined shirt around his fingers. “My mom’s parents, I mean. They’d probably take me in.”

Oliver’s face fell and his breath hissed. Felicity swore she could see the bottom fall out of his world.

How had she ever doubted that he wanted his son in his life?

“William…” Felicity shook her head, looking at Oliver with pleading eyes. 

Pleading for what, she had no idea. Felicity didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to fix this.

But Oliver looked even more at a loss than she did. Actually, if Felicity knew him, and she did, he was having an enormous internal freak-out. 

Which meant she was probably going to have to handle this one. Yay.

But then, Oliver surprised her.

He drew himself up, squared his shoulders and…put on a _dad_ -face. “William…” Oliver moved the boy’s chair so it was facing his. “Look, I know this isn’t what you signed on for. Hell, you didn’t sign on for _any_ of this. Least of all losing your mother.”

William’s eyes filled with tears and he clutched his hands until his knuckles turned white. Felicity tried to send Oliver encouraging vibes. 

“You deserve a whole hell of a lot more than you’re getting. You deserve all of our attention and I know with three babies—”

“It will be too much,” William finished in a tiny voice.

“No!” Felicity rushed to correct, just in case Oliver didn’t. 

But Oliver’s, “No,” over lapped with hers, less _loud_ , but just as firm. He leaned into his son’s space. “William…look, buddy, I’m not going to pretend to know what to do here.” 

Oliver took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. So he was going with total honesty then. Hm. That was…something.

A good something.

Felicity hoped. 

“Or that I have anything figured out. But I know _you_ are my son and I love you. I’ve already missed twelve years of your life and if I could get those years back I would. I don’t want to miss another minute. Just like I don’t want to miss a single thing with these guys here.” Oliver’s voice got progressively more hoarse until it just about gave up at the end. 

Oliver took a shaky breath and looked down and Felicity could practically see the wheels turning. What she didn’t know was where those thoughts were spinning off to and that worried her.

William, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to throw himself into Oliver’s arms, but he held himself still. Too still. 

Then William turned his eyes to Felicity. He didn’t meet hers. In fact, it was like he was looking right through her. Then he said in a deceptively even voice, “You shouldn’t have to deal with a new stepson when you have your own—”

“What?!” That took a quick and unexpected turn. One Felicity was so not prepared for. “ _Nooo_. That’s not true—”

“You don’t have to say that, not to make me feel better. I’m okay.” William did not sound ‘okay’. “I’ll just—”

Felicity struggled to sit up (she swore just knowing there were three of them stuffed under her diaphragm made her feel ungainly) and scoot closer. “William, I’m not _trying_ to make you feel anything…I mean I _am_. Because you are clearly upset and I really don’t want you to be upset, so I want you to feel better. It’s just…that has nothing to do with the fact that I do _absolutely_ want _you_.”

Super coherent and convincing. Felicity Smoak-Queen at her best. 

And, as if to prove how good she was at this stepmother/mother thing, William _still_ wouldn’t look her in the eye. He just shook his head.

It made Felicity a tad bit desperate. “You are not too much. You are just enough and…” God, she was out of her depth. Felicity needed help here. “ _Oliver_.” 

And he was there. Instantly.

“Hey, kiddo, Felicity is the most loving person I know. She has room in her heart for _all_ of us.”

Thank _God_ for Oliver.

William finally shifted and his eyes met Felicity’s. And they were sad. So _heartbreakingly_ sad. “When you said that thing….when you shot Chase. The thing about him not hurting your children I thought you meant…but you didn’t—”

“I _did_ ,” Felicity assured quickly, because she knew exactly what he was talking about and he couldn’t be more wrong. “I meant—”

“You meant your _children_.” William pointed an accusing finger at Felicity’s belly.

“Yes. No…” God, could she frak this up any worse? “I meant ‘children’ as in _you_ and the baby. One baby. I knew…well, I didn’t know, but I was pretty sure I was having _a_ baby. This whole _three_ baby thing is as much of a shock to me as any of you.”

More probably. Felicity was the one that had to carry them after all. 

William looked like he _wanted_ to believe her. He took a shaky breath and said quietly, “But now that you _do know,_ a preteen stepson is—”

“ _Exactly_ what we need.” Felicity swooped forward and grabbed William’s hands (thankful she still had the room to do so). Shaking his arms like limp noodles, she moaned, “Without you will be outnumbered, William. Out-num- _bered_.”

Her melodramatic words finally got William to crack a smile. 

“Not that we expect you to baby sit,” Felicity continued, because she didn’t want him to think that either. “We’d never be so cruel as to leave you with _three_ babies. We’d only do that to my mother and maybe his sister when we’re mad at her.” She shoved a thumb at Oliver and William giggled. “And, unlike your father, _you_ will not be on diaper duty.”

Oliver cleared his throat loudly and threw Felicity a (mock) annoyed look. (He knew better than to deny the diaper-duty part though). “What Felicity is trying to say is that you are very important to _both_ of us. You are part of our family. No less than the babies. _Equal_ to the babies—”

“Except _you_ are in charge of feeding and changing yourself,” Felicity couldn’t help but add.

Her husband rolled his eyes, but he was grinning right along with his son now.

But then the big idiot said, “Look, William, if you want to live with your grandparents—”

Felicity cut him off with a sharp smack on the shoulder and Oliver turned to look at her with shock. She gave him a hard look. Trying to portray, ‘Fight for what you want, Idiot!’ Without saying a word.

Oliver frowned so she had no idea if he got the message or not.

Then he turned and said to his son (who was watching them both with wide eyes), “William, I want you to live with me. With _us_ ,” so he must have gotten the message after all. “Full time. And Felicity wants you to live with us.”

It took her a second but Felicity picked up her cue. “Yes. Absolutely. One-hundred percent.”

William rewarded her with a small smile before looking back to his father. 

“We want to be a family. _All of us._ But…William, what do you want?”

And Felicity was so fraking proud of him, she almost cried. Given the stupid hormones, she probably would. 

But look at her man. Asking for what he wanted, respecting what other people want. Who said people can’t change?

“I…” William pressed his tongue to his top teeth before sucking in a hissing breath. “Grandma’s a terrible cook,” he confessed in a rush. “But she thinks she’s great at it and gets really mad if you don’t eat it all and tell her it’s ‘awesome’.”

Felicity smothered a laugh behind her hand and told him, “ _I’m_ a terrible cook, but you never have to eat anything I make. And your father is a Top Chef in the making so we’re good.”

William smiled at her and, apparently encouraged, he said, “They think it’s more important to be good at sports than to get good grades.”

This time when Felicity gasped, there was nothing feigned about it.

Nodding solemnly, William leaned toward her and said without taking a breath, “They hate video games and sometimes they made my mother sad and they judge everyone and their racist _and_ homophobic.” 

Felicity grabbed his hand. “You are _never_ going to live with them,” she swore, then turned to Oliver with a desperate look. They could never allow their boy into a house like that.

“ _Never_ ,” Oliver repeated, more softly, but with a tone no one would dare argue with. (Well, except maybe her).

William finally took a breath and smiled, the tension melting from his slight shoulders. “I don’t think I’d mind changing diapers sometimes. Or helping feed them or anything. I always wanted a little brother or sister.”

Thank _God_.

“Anything you want,” Oliver promised, proving once again he was going to be the weak link when it came to disciplining their brood. “When we find a new place, and we’re going to _need_ a new place, we’ll get one where you will have your own space. A no baby zone.”

The adolescent let out a delighted laugh, “It’s okay. I really don’t mind helping. I’ll even watch them when, you know, you’re out doing your,” William mimed letting an arrow fly, “ _thing_.”

Oliver sobered and sat back. After a minute, he said hoarsely, “I really appreciate that, but I don’t want any of you to question that _you_ are my first priority.”

William nodded, but Felicity didn’t know if he had any idea just how weighty that statement was. She wondered what Oliver was thinking. It seemed—

“ _Oh_!” William sat forward. “I forgot. I was going to tell you when I first came in.” He grinned and started searching for something around her hospital bed. “Apparently, not every super villain needs the Green Arrow to catch them.”

William threw his father a cheeky smile and held up the remote, turning on the news.

CNN immediately flickered to life on the wall-mounted tv. The headline under the two anchors read, “Sex Pollen Found! Creator in Custody!”

Felicity’s eyes widened and she sat up straighter, listening intently as Oliver grumbled, “Sex Pollen, _seriously_?”

William stifled a giggle and Felicity really hoped he didn’t fully understand the joke or it’s connection to online erotica.

“Dr. Pamala Isley, genius Biochemical Botanist, was remanded into custody early this morning,” Cat Grant was saying. “After an FBI task force,” read ARGUS, “raided her green houses in Upper New York State where they found hundreds of flowering plants of a new species she is calling, _Aphrodasioideae isleosa_ ,”

The screen changed to show a huge Green House fill to the brim with plants, each with enormous bright coral-colored flowers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Oliver muttered and Felicity bit her lip, leaning forward to listen more carefully.

The voice-over changed to Jake Tapper, “These flowers have been proven to produce a pollen that when ground up and aerosolized is responsible for over a dozen attacks world-wide. The effect, among others, is sexual arousal, severe disinhibition, and, in high enough doses, amnesia of the event.”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me!” Oliver almost roared it this time. “It’s actual, _literal_ Sex Pollen?”

Felicity laughed out loud. She had to. “Told you so.” Even though she hadn’t. Not in a million years would she have figured that _literal_ ‘Sex Pollen’ was a thing.

“How…?” Oliver drifted off as Cat took back over the voice-over.

“This stuff makes Rohipnol, the date rape drug, look like pixie stix. The aphrodisiac found in the pollen is virtually impossible to resist. Doctors believe trying would be very dangerous to ones health, maybe even fatal. Yet Dr. Isley claims she released the drug as a public service.”

Felicity gasped and Oliver growled at the tv. He’d be up and pacing soon, since he didn’t have anyone to punch. 

Jake Tapper took over again as the video toured the Botanist’s small estate. “In fact, she has a cult-like following. Almost a dozen men and women have helped Dr. Isley perpetrate her crimes. They routinely indulge in the drug they call: _Pollen of the Goddess_.”

They switched back to the anchor’s desk where Cat Grant looked disgusted (even more than usual) as she said, “Her ‘disciples’ refer to Dr. Isley as ‘Goddess Ivy’. More appropriately, the Twitter community has named her ‘Poison Ivy’ and, given how wildly it’s trending, I’d say it’s going to stick.”

“Cat, I’m getting word that Dr. Isley is about to give a statement,” Jack cut in.

“Let’s see what Poison Ivy has to say for herself. We’re going live to Monument City…”

“Oliver?” Felicity croaked, reaching for him, because she really couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“I can’t believe it,” Oliver echoed her thoughts, taking her hand and shaking his head, his eyes glued to the screen. 

A handcuffed Pamala Isley appeared on the tv with the headline under her, “Poison Ivy Speaks Out,” so Felicity thought it was more than Twitter making the pseudonym stick and wondered whether Cisco approved. 

Dr. Isley looked anything but poisonous. And even less goddess-like. What she _did_ look like was a deranged Biochemical Botanist. Her frizzy red hair was pulled back in a floral scarf that clashed horribly. Felicity swore she actually had leaves and twigs stuck in her flyaway curls. She had large-rimmed green glasses and wore oversized hippie clothing. All in all, the only thing menacing about ‘Poison Ivy’ was the wild look in her eyes.

“This was not a crime!” the woman screamed (who she was screaming at Felicity had no idea. There was a row of microphones right there). “What I have done, I have done for the good of humanity. What I have done, I did for _love_.”

“Oh wow,” William breathed, his eyes wide, while his father sounded as though he was choking on his tongue. “She’s uh…”

“She sure is,” Felicity murmured back, before doing a double take at the twelve year-old. “Should you be watching this?”

William shrugged but the woman’s rant drew their full attention, “There are couples out there, _iconic_ couples, couples who _belong_ together, that we as a people _need_ to be together, to give us faith that love exists, and I, along with my faithful followers and my beautiful _Aphrodasioideae isleosa_ , have brought them together.”

“Oh. My. _God_ ,” Oliver breathed, his voice soft and disbelieving. “Felicity, please tell me…”

“Olicity, Brelina, Brangelina, Beniffer, TomCat and countless others are back together because of _my_ precious baby’s pollen.” Dr. Isley pounded on her chest with her bound hands, spit spraying with the vehemence of her words. 

“No...no…no…no….” Oliver was muttering to himself and all Felicity could do was pat his hand as her eyes stayed glued to the train-wreck on the screen.

“Ask Brad and Angelina’s children if what I did was a crime now that their parents are under the same roof. Selina Kyle has moved back into Wayne Manor…”

Felicity knew what was coming but she still gasped out loud when the crazy Botanist said, “And Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak were married just _one_ week after my healing pollen worked it’s magic…”

“ _Healing_!?” Oliver gaped.

But the giggles were starting to attack Felicity. “I was right. I can’t believe it. I was right.” She put both hands over her mouth as her body started to shake with hilarity. It was just too much.

By this point, a pair of cops were trying to wrestle Pamala Isley away from the press (a little late, if you asked Felicity), but she was fighting them, wriggling in their grip and screaming, “They will save me, the people’s whose lives I saved, they’ll come forward and keep me from prison…”

The video flickered out and Cat Grant and Jake Tapper were back on screen. Felicity imagined their wide-eyed shock was similar to the faces in her own hospital room.

“So…” Jake finally said, “ _that_ was Pamela Isley, so called Poison Ivy and…we’re receiving word that Dr. Isley is being remanded to Arkham Asylum for the criminally insane until it can be determined if she has the mental acuity to stand trial.”

Cat scoffed, a look of revulsion on her face, then someone off-screen seemed to get her attention. She let out a small disbelieving laugh. “I’m being told that on Poison Ivy’s personal computer they’ve found over five-million words of fanfiction. Mostly erotica. Many about the high-profile couples she mentioned—”

Oliver lurched over and grabbed the remote. The tv abruptly went dark. “Sorry, I…I couldn’t…that was enough.”

It sure was.

So…

_That_ happened. 

Felicity couldn’t really _believe_ that happened. Of all the scenarios they’d considered…well, _seriously_ considered, this wouldn’t have made the top hundred.

Oliver stood, paced a little then stopped, hands on his hips, staring at the wall.

This might just have been one shock too many. 

“So,” Felicity tried, “next time I offer a seemingly _ridiculous_ theory or information based on my knowledge of the ‘seedier’ part of the internet, I’ll thank you to take it more seriously.”

Oliver turned to her and, as she’d hoped, cracked a smile. If they couldn’t see the humor in the situation, they were doomed. “You’d think I would have figured that out by now?”

Felicity grinned back and not a bit of it was feigned. “You’d think.”

“I’m a slow learner,” he murmured.

“So, eh,” William broke in, looking a little overwhelmed. Felicity hoped he only understood half of what he’d seen on that screen (and that he didn’t expect them to explain the other half). “You guys going to testify on Poison Ivy’s behalf or something?”

“Eh _no_.”

“Of course not.”

Their replies were simultaneous as well as quick and vehement.

William threw up his hands in surrender and defended, “Just because, like she said, she _did_ help you get back together and you _are_ happy and having triplets and that wouldn’t have happened without her pollen stuff.”

Felicity was about to explain how all of that probably would have happened anyway, _eventually_ …well, not the _three_ babies at once part…

Thankfully Oliver spoke first because he got straight to the point, “I might _consider_ defending her if she had only dosed Felicity and I, but there were 200 plus innocent people at our party alone. Hundreds more around the world. That’s not the kind of collateral damage we consider acceptable.”

William nodded solemnly, nullified. And maybe a little in awe of Team Leader Oliver. 

“Are you upset you weren’t called in like Lyla promised?” Felicity asked, mostly to refocus some of Oliver’s _intensity_ on her and give William a break. 

Oliver didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he shook his head and said softly, “No.”

He collapsed into his chair, the tension leaving him in a whoosh as he ran a hand through his already disheveled hair and fixed his stare on the ceiling. 

He stayed that way for so long that William sent Felicity a concerned look. 

She’d prefer to talk about this _without_ William there, but she didn’t know that she had a choice. “Oliver—”

“ARGUS didn’t need us after all,” Oliver told the ceiling and Felicity had no idea what sort of answer that was supposed to be. 

Or if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

“I suppose—”

“They caught Pamela Isley and got their evidence and took her and her cronies off the board.”

“And that’s….bad?” William asked. He looked confused and Felicity couldn’t blame him. 

“No,” Oliver again told the ceiling. But then he looked at William and smiled. Not a placating smile, oh no, a genuine _happy_ smile. “That’s a wonderful thing. Because this world needs heroes. Competent heroes capable of taking people like her off the streets.”

“Like you?” William asked, even more confused now. 

“Like me.” One side of Oliver’s mouth quirked a little higher than the other. “But not me. Not any more. Because I’m going to retire.”

Felicity’s mouth fell open and she thought maybe her brain stopped dead for a moment. In a day of shockers, that may very well be the biggest. 

William swallowed, then asked softly, “From being the mayor?”

Though Felicity didn’t think the boy thought that was what Oliver meant, any more than she did. 

Slowly, Oliver shook his head. “No, buddy. From the job that _isn’t_ responsible for putting food on the table of one very hungry, rapidly-growing 12 year-old and a woman now eating for four.”

God, Felicity was eating for _four_ now.

That was a lot of mint chip.

Shaking her head, Felicity tried to get her thoughts back on track. “Oliver, is that really something you want to consider giving up?”

She remembered, very clearly, how under the influence of Sex Pollen Oliver had told her being the Arrow had been the only part of him with worth. Felicity knew he’d come a long way since then but…

Smiling softly, Oliver leaned in and took one of her hands. Then he reached out and took one of William’s. “I think the vigilante business is for men… _and woman_ with demons to exercise. Mine…mine are pretty much gone.”

Great, now Felicity was crying again. 

“I think it’s time for me to pass the bow to someone else, give _them_ the chance to work through their issues.” Oliver sent a shocked William a wink. 

Sniffling, Felicity asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to think about this a little more.”

Oliver shook his head. “I can’t be the father I need, or _want_ , to be and be the Green Arrow.”

“But…” William seemed to be having a hard time accepting this. But there was hope in his eyes. “Doesn’t the city need you?”

Smiling, Oliver squeezed his son’s hand. “The city has me. I’m their mayor. I get to make a difference in the light of day.”

“And you have a team now, right? They can take over?” William asked, starting to sound excited. 

Oliver shot Felicity a grin and said, “I do.”

“Well, you have six months to train them to take over. Mom always overlapped with someone when she got a promotion, said it runs smoother.” William was definitely excited now and Oliver beamed and caught Felicity’s eyes at the word ‘promotion’. “She said they should have done that when I got a new principle.”

Chuckling, Oliver grinned at William and Felicity and she was struck by how calm and at peace he looked all of a sudden. “That is an excellent plan.”

“And you can always be on reserve or something. Like if something big comes up and they really need you,” William suggested and Felicity got the feeling he really liked the idea of having a father who was _both_ a superhero _and_ came home every night. 

And didn’t get himself almost killed on a daily basis.

Wow, actually Felicity really liked that idea too. 

“It will give me a reason to keep training.” Oliver sent Felicity a warm look. “Don’t think I could get rid of the salmon ladder.”

Felicity bit her lip and luckily that reference went right over William’s head, because he leaned forward and asked eagerly, “Can you train me?”

“For self-defense _only_ ,” Oliver agreed.

William fist pumped. “Yes!”

Then, looking at her two boys, both of them happy and excited after a month of pure hell, Felicity realized this was really happening. 

This was the end of the Green Arrow.

Not in a blaze of glory and blood and death, but in a quiet moment after hearing their babies’ heartbeats for the first time. 

And, most shockingly of all, all Felicity felt was relief. 

Profound relief. 

Felicity remembered how bored she’d been in Ivy Town. How lost and without purpose. 

And thought of the five _thousand_ ways she could have filled those wasted hours, all so much better than trying to make a stupid omelette. 

Like raise four children to be strong productive members of society. Build a company that made a difference in the world. 

All in the light of day. 

It was time for the Smoak-Queen family to live in the daylight. 

Oliver jerked Felicity out of her revery with a squeeze of her hand and a quiet, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking…” Felicity felt her face dissolve into a smile. “I’m thinking maybe we should see if we can get Dr. Isley transferred to a better psych facility. I’ve heard Arkham is a hellhole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan for the orchestrator of the gas was something boring. A vague idea of a distraction for some sort of theft, but then, as I was working on chapter two with Oliver and Felicity bantering about Sex Pollen, I realized what I _had_ to do. I cannot express how much it amuses me and I hope you enjoyed it too.
> 
> As for Oliver’s retirement, I’m guessing that a year ago it wouldn’t have been a popular decision, but I think most of us are ready for Oliver to choose his family and spend his nights changing diapers and watching a game with his son.
> 
> This is not another season 6, where Oliver tries to step away and gets pulled back in because of nonsense. John never got nerve damage in this universe. Felicity didn’t join HIVE so Caden James did not escape. And so on and so forth.
> 
> That brings me to my next topic, what (if anything) do you want from this universe?
> 
> Let me make this clear, I haven’t written a single solitary word that isn’t now posted. _But_ if you did want to know more what would you want me to include? 
> 
> I could either write an Afterward, which would be a summery of everything else that happens in this Universe, including Poison Ivy, the fates of Susan and Billy and the rest of the team as well as details about the Olicity triplets and the havoc they wreak. This would be the easiest for me to accomplish.
> 
> The other option is to hold out for a series of one-shots, or additional epilogues in the universe, which would dive deeper into specific moments. The one that has being dogging my Muse for a year involves Oliver inviting Samanda Watson to shadow him (for how ever long it takes) as the mayor and father of four, to prove he’s not the Green Arrow.
> 
> Please keep in mind that I’m not one of those amazing prolific writers this fandom is blessed with that can churn out something several times a week. It’s a miracle (and the fact that I’ve been working on this for years) that I’ve been able to go this long with weekly updates.
> 
> A final immense thank you to **mariposablue9** and **Ireland1733** for all they say and do. For being amazing friends and partners. To everyone who came with me on this journey, to all those who read, kudoed, and commented, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I couldn’t do this without you.
> 
> I hope you will join me next week with Another Kind of Island, until then stay healthy and happy reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you are enjoying my new story. 
> 
> As much as I would love to have this entire thing posted by New Years, I doubt it. Though, honestly it’s Sex Pollen >>>>Holiday fic. The holiday is only mentioned at the beginning and the last few chapters. In the rest they’re….eh _distracted_.
> 
> For those of you who may be annoyed that I started a new story without finishing my old stories then :-P. 
> 
> Here’s a run down: _(Don’t) Let Me Go_ is finished and up on AO3. _To Sacrifice the Sun_ is 83% done. I just posted an extremely exciting and pivotal chapter (so go read if you haven’t already). I plan to go back to that as soon as I’m finished with _Air_ and finish the last 10 chapters. _Another Kind of Island_ …
> 
> That one is harder because its really only about 1/3 done so either I have a lot to write or I need to reimagine the rest of the story. I hope to go back to it after _To Sacrifice the Sun._ But if you like that you should like this one too.
> 
> Thank you for all the help and support of **mariposablue9** and **Ireland1733** who have been working with me on this one for over a year.
> 
> Like every author/writer I love feedback and truly the best way to keep me motivated is comments (kudos certainly don’t hurt. ;-) so if you enjoyed this please take a moment to stop and tell me what you think. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
